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AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 


H  novel 


BY 


MARIA   LOUISE   POOL 

AUTHOR   OF 

dally"   "out  of  step"   "the  two  SALOMES' 
"MRS.   KEATS    BRADFORD"    ETC. 


NEW      '  K 

HARPER    &    B  r       ;       xi  R  S    PUBLISHERS 

^895 


By  MARIA  LOUISE  POOL. 


OUT  OF  STEP. 

THE  TWO  SALOMES. 

KATHARINE  NORTH. 


MRS.  KEATS  BRADFORD. 
ROWENY  IN  BOSTON. 
DALLY. 


Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $\  25  each. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 


Copyright,  1895,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


All  rights  reserved. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     A   LETTER I 

II.     A  HORSEBACK   RIDE 22 

III.  AN   INTERRUPTED   MEAL 4I 

IV.  DR.   AMMIDOWN , 59 

V.    ON   THE   FRENCH   BROAD 79 

VI.    COMING   TO   PREACHING 96 

VII.    YOUNG  DALVECKER II3 

VIII.     "WE  WILL   FIGHT   TOGETHER" I30 

IX.     "THE   CHAINS,  THE   SHINING   CHAINS" I46 

X.     WITH   DALVECKER 163 

XI.     THE   mother's    LETTER 180 

XII.     "MUTUAL   REGARD" I97 

XIII.  NOT    BUDDHISM c       .       .  213 

XIV.  BREAKING   DOWN c      .      .      .      .  231 

XV.    THE   RELAXING  WOMAN 248 

XVI.     OLD    MAID    DROWDY'S 264 

XVII.     "A   MAN   MAY   BE  A   FOOL   ONCE   IN   HIS   LIFE"       .      .      .  280 

XVIII.     RETURNING   STRENGTH 298 

XIX.     "A   LITTLE   PLEASURE" 316 

XX.    "PROOF  armor" e     .  333 

XXI.    "emotionalizing" 351 


AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 


A     LETTER 

She  was  hurrying  along  the  road  with  her  shawl  wrapped 
so  closely  about  her  that  her  thin  shoulders,  with  their  sharp 
bones,  were  defined  so  plainly  that  one  could  not  help  being 
sorry  for  her. 

Her  shawl  was  striped  blue  and  white,  the  blue  having 
gone  into  the  white  and  the  white  into  the  blue  on  that 
occasion,  long  ago,  when  its  owner  tried  the  experiment  of 
washing  the  garment. 

She  always  said  she  "guessed  she  made  a  mistake  in  put- 
tin'  sody  into  the  water,  but  she  shouldn't  make  the  same 
mistake  again  ;  there  was  that  much  about  it." 

She  wore  a  black  straw  hat  with  what  was  called  a  *'dish 
brim."  This  brim  made  an  excellent  shade  now  over  the 
upper  half  of  her  face.  Only  the  narrow  chin  and  small 
mouth  were  in  the  sunlight.  This  light  revealed  relentlessly 
the  two  long  wrinkles,  one  on  each  side  of  the  mouth,  and 
the  sagging  of  the  cheeks  which  begins  to  come  soon  after 
middle  age.  Where  is  the  patent -medicine  man  who  will 
take  away  that  last  dreadful  sign  of  the  years  from  the  aging 
woman  ?  In  doing  that  he  will  seem  to  annihilate  time,  and 
will  also  become  fabulously  rich. 

Not  that  Almina  Drowdy  would  have  employed  any  such 


2  AGAINST    HUiMAN    NATURE 

means.  She  would  have  said  that  the  Lord  had  seemed  to 
make  women  on  purpose  to  grow  old,  'n'  she  didn't  reckon 
she  was  so  foolish  as  to  try  to  stop  the  Lord's  work.  She'd 
had  her  time  of  being  young  and  not  being  exactly  a  fright 
either,  and  what  were  you  to  expect?  —  that  you'd  have 
more'n  one  chance  in  this  world  ?  And  now  Miss  Drowdy 
had  come  to  a  dish  hat  and  a  faded  shawl,  and  to  a  sublime 
unconcern  as  to  how  her  dress  "  hung." 

The  road  stretched  out  white  and  dusty  before  her ;  it 
looked  as  if  it  would  never  end.  But  Miss  Drowdy  knew 
that  just  beyond  the  farther  clump  of  white  birches  there 
was  a  turn,  and  bevond  the  turn  there  was  a  house.  It  was 
to  this  place  that  she  was  going. 

She  glanced  up  at  the  sun.     Then  she  walked  faster  still. 

"  I  hadn't  ought  to  have  come  out,"  she  thought ;  "  'n'  my 
bread  a-rising.  Well,  if  I  have  to  eat  sour  bread  it's  my  own 
lookout.  I  ain't  got  no  men  folks,  thank  the  Lord,  to  find 
fault!" 

Before  she  reached  the  corner  she  put  her  hand  down 
suddenly  to  her  skirt,  and  then  stooped  still  lower  till  she 
touched  the  bottom  of  her  deep  pocket.  She  pulled  out  a 
letter  and  looked  at  it. 

"  It'd  been  a  great  joke  if  I'd  got  the  wrong  one,"  she  said, 
"  I  have  so  many,"  with  a  laugh  that  softened  the  lines  in  her 
face  wonderfully,  and  gave  some  hint  of  what  the  face  had 
been  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago. 

Five  minutes  later  she  had  opened  the  outer  back  door  of 
a  little  house  which  had  so  long  an  "L  "  that  it  was  a  great 
deal  more  L  than  house.  But  by  this  time  the  visitor  had  care- 
fully dropped  all  appearance  of  hurry  ;  she  entered  leisurely. 

"Thatyou,  Alminy?" 

The  question  was  put  by  a  woman  who  sat  in  a  low  rock- 
er by  the  north  window. 

This  woman  was  sewing  buttons  on  the  vamps  of  shoes 
with  a  rapidity  that  made  the  very  air  twinkle  about  her. 
Her  needle  and  thread  hesitated  for  the  briefest  space  as  she 
spoke,  then  they  went  on  again. 


A    LETTER  3 

"Yes,"  said  the  caller,  "  it's  me  —  I  should  think,  Livy, 
you'd  about  perish  with  them  buttons.  How  many  has  the 
baby  swallered  this  morning?" 

The  hand  of  the  woman  addressed  flashed  out  to  the 
length  of  a  long,  new  needleful.  She  held  the  hand  sus- 
pended as  she  answered  : 

"  I  do  hope  and  believe  it  ain't  got  to  any  of  um  so  far 
to-day.     But  they  ain't  seemed  to  hurt  him  a  mite." 

"  No,"  said  Alminy,  "they  agree  with  him  first-rate.  I 
d'know  but  shoe-buttons  are  better'n  milk  for  children  of  his 
age." 

"You  always  make  fun  of  everything,  Alminy,"  said  the 
other,  reproachfully. 

"Do  I?  Well,  I'm  thankful  I  can  make  fun,"  was  the 
response.  "  The  land  knows  there's  no  need  of  trying  to  be 
solemn  in  this  world." 

After  this  there  was  a  silence  for  several  minutes,  during 
which  the  new-comer  watched  her  sister  intently.  For  the 
two  women  were  sisters,  though  there  was  not  even  a  "  fam- 
ily look"  in  common  between  them. 

"  I  s'pose  there  ain't  any  news,  is  there  ?"  at  last  asked 
Olivia. 

Almina  hesitated  slightly  before  she  replied,  but  her  com- 
panion did  not  notice  the  hesitation. 

"  I  had  a  letter  yesterday,"  she  said,  finally,  "  and  I  didn't 
.  sleep  a  wink  last  night." 

"  Mercy  sake  !"  exclaimed  Olivia,  "  I  didn't  know  as  you 
was  correspondin'  with  anybody." 

"  No  more  I  ain't." 

Olivia  waited ;  but  she  kept  on  working  as  she  waited.  She 
knew  that  her  sister  would  tell  her  news  when  she  was  ready 
to  tell  it,  and  that  she  would  not  tell  it  before.  She  had 
learned  long  ago  that  "it  was  no  use  to  waste  breath  ques- 
tioning Alminy." 

At  last  she  glanced  at  her  companion.  She  saw  that  her 
sister's  gaze  was  fixed  in  an  unseeing  way  upon  the  window. 
She  saw  also  that  the  hard,  rough  hands  were  clasped  tightly 


4  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

on  the  gingham  apron  which  Almina  had  neglected  to  take 
off  before  she  started  from  the  house.  In  her  anxiety  Olivia 
could  not  sew  fast  enough.  Her  thimble  presently  caught 
in  her  thread  ;  she  gave  the  thread  a  twitch  and  broke  it. 
She  began  to  be  afraid  that  the  man  would  come  for  the 
case  of  shoes  before  they  were  finished.  She  wished  that 
Almina  would  speak ;  or  else  she  wished  she  had  stayed  at 
home. 

Finally  Olivia's  patience  gave  out.  She  tried  to  thread  her 
needle  and  could  not. 

"  I'll  bet  a  dollar  I've  broken  the  eye  to  this  needle !" 
she  exclaimed.     "  That  last  paper  wasn't  worth  a  cent," 

"I  wouldn't  let  Freddy  git  to  the  needles,"  said  Almina, 
rousing,  "  they  might  not  be  as  good  for  him  as  buttons.  I 
s'pose  some  things  are  really  better  for  a  baby's  inside  than 
others." 

The  speaker  laughed  nervously. 

Olivia's  eyes  flashed  with  annoyance.  She  wanted  to  ask 
her  sister  to  stop  being  so  provoking,  but  she  shut  her  lips 
tightly  and  did  not  speak. 

In  a  moment  Almina  rose  from  her  chair  and  began  w^alk- 
ing  about  the  room.  She  took  off  her  hat  and  threw  it  on 
the  table.  There  were  wrinkles  of  excitement  upon  her 
forehead,  which  was  still  delicate  and  almost  handsome,  with 
its  soft  hair,  which  would  "ring  up,"  lying  loosely  about  it. 
She  w^ould  have  scoffed  at  the  idea,  but  she  was  still  an  in- 
teresting woman  ;  that  is,  many  a  stranger  would  have  been 
likely  to  think  so,  but  here  in  her  native  village  no  one 
thought  anything  about  her,  save  that  she  was  an  old  maid 
and  lived  by  herself,  with  money  enough  to  support  her  in 
that  small  way  which  called  for  a  very  little  sum  per  week. 

Almina  paused  at  length  by  her  sister's  chair. 

"  I  s'pose  you  remember  Roger  Crawford,  don't  you, 
Livy  ?" 

Olivia  put  down  her  shoe,  and  looked  up  with  wide-open 
eyes. 

"  Oh,  Alminy !"  she  cried,  "  of  course  I  remember  him. 


A    LETTER  5 

But  I  didn't  know  but  you'd  forgotten  him.  I  hoped  you 
had." 

"Forgotten  him!"  repeated  Almina.  "That  ain't  likely. 
But  I  must  own  I  ain't  thought  of  him  so  much  late  years. 
God  does  let  time,  as  it  goes  on,  do  something  for  us.  If  He 
didn't  I  d'know  what  we  should  do." 

The  speaker's  hands  were  hanging  beside  her ;  they  were 
shut  fast  as  hands  involuntarily  shut  at  some  intolerable 
memory. 

Olivia  reached  forward  and  took  one  of  those  hands  in 
both  of  her  own.  The  buttons  fell  rattling  on  the  floor  from 
her  lap  as  she  did  so. 

"  More  buttons  for  Freddy,"  Almina  said,  a  flash  of 
fun  coming  to  her  gray  eyes ;  but  the  fun  subsided  in- 
stantly. 

"You  don't  mean  you've  heard  from  him?"  asked  Olivia, 
keeping  hold  of  her  sister's  hand. 

"  Oh  no  ;  no  indeed.     But  I've  heard  from  his  daughter." 

"Then  he's  dead.?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Read  that,  then  tell  me  what  you  think. 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  to  think  myself" 

Miss  Drowdy  drew  the  letter  from  her  pocket  and  tossed 
it  into  her  sister's  lap.  Then  she  began  walking  about  the 
room  again.  Her  lips  were  pressed  tightly  together;  the 
lines  on  her  forehead  were  still  more  marked  ;  the  darkness 
under  her  eyes  was  heavier. 

But  still  there  was  a  curious  kind  of  triumph  in  her  as- 
pect— a  triumph  as  of  one  who  has  again  wakened  from  half 
a  life  into  a  life  containing  more  than  the  sordid  every-day 
cares.  Suffering  might  be  life,  but  torpor  was  not,  even 
though  it  might  be  mistaken  for  peace. 

Olivia  was  not,  as  she  would  have  said,  much  used  to  read- 
ing writing.  She  held  the  sheet  in  both  hands,  and  held  it 
far  from  her,  though  she  had  not  come  to  spectacles,  and 
could  see  perfectly  well.  Somehow  she  could  not  quite 
bring  her  mind  to  the  written  words.  She  was  thinking  of 
Roger  Crawford.     The  thought  of  him  had  not  crossed  her 


6  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

mind  for  years.  Now  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  recalled 
everything  about  him  "  in  a  flash." 

Roger  and  Almina  had  certainly  been  what  is  called  "in 
love  "  with  each  other,  and  see  how  it  all  turned  out !  Oliv- 
ia did  not  understand  anything  about  being  in  love,  and 
therefore  she  did  not  in  the  least  believe  in  any  such  state. 
It  was  unnatural  and  really  quite  indelicate  for  a  woman  to 
feel  anytliing  more  than  respect  and  a  moderate  liking  for  a 
man. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  that  affair  with  Roger,  and  for  the 
fact  that  Almina  had  a  silly  streak  of  sentimentality  in  her 
somewhere,  she  might  have  married  Dr.  Newcomb  ten  years 
ago,  and  been  living  now  in  that  brick-ended  two-story  house 
right  in  the  middle  of  the  village. 

Dr.  Newcomb  had  lost  his  wife,  and  Almina  Drowdy  was 
his  first  choice  for  his  second  partner. 

Olivia,  comfortably  married  and  settled,  had  argued  and 
pleaded  with  her  sister  to  become  Mrs.  Newcomb. 

"  There  ain't  a  thing  against  the  doctor,"  she  said.  "  You 
can't  say,  Alminy,  as  there's  a  thing  against  him ;  now,  can 
you  ?" 

"Why,  no,  of  course  I  can't.  Who  said  there  was?"  had 
been  the  response. 

Olivia  had  gazed  despairingly  at  her  sister. 

"And  you  like  him,  don't  you?" 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  marry  him  ?"    . 

At  this  point  in  every  conversation  Almina  had  laughed  in 
the  most  irritating  way  as  she  answered, 

"  I  don't  know  as  it's  any  reason  why  I  should  marry  a 
man  because  there  isn't  anything  against  him,  and  because 
I  like  him.  I  know  half  a  dozen  men  in  this  village  whom 
there  isn't  anything  against,  and  whom  I  like." 

"  But  they  don't  want  to  marry  you,"  said  her  sister. 

"  No,  they  don't,  and  that's  a  fact.  So  that  puts  them  out 
of  the  question." 

And  then  Almina  had  laughed  again,  and  her  sister  had 


A    LETTER  7 

sighed  and  said  that  there  wa'n't  no  use ;  Alminy  was  jest 
as  odd  as  she  could  be.     And  she  had  added,  warningly, 

"You  know  you're  growin'  older  every  day.  The  men  '11 
be  lookin'  for  younger  women.  You  can't  expect  many 
more  chances." 

"I  know  it,"  was  the  reckless  response. 

In  her  secret  heart  Olivia  had  wondered  if  Roger  Craw- 
ford, or  rather  the  memory  of  him,  had  had  anything  to  do 
with  making  Almina  so  odd.  But  Almina  had  been  a  little 
odd  always,  and  of  course  she  would  grow  more  and  more 
so,  since  she  refused  "  to  settle."  What  could  you  expect  of 
a  woman  who  deliberately  refused  to  settle  ?  And  there  was 
but  one  way  made  known  whereby  a  woman  could  settle. 

All  these  thoughts  and  memories  were  in  a  jumble  in 
Olivia's  mind  as  she  sat  thero  with  the  shoe  vamps  about 
her,  trying  to  read  the  letter  her  sister  had  given  her. 

She  turned  over  the  sheets  and  looked  at  the  name 
signed.     She  read  it  aloud. 

"Temple — Temple  Crawford.  What's  that  mean  .^  That 
ain't  no  kind  of  a  name.  Is  it  a  girl  ?  What  makes  you 
think  it's  a  girl?" 

"  I  think  so  from  the  letter,"  answered  Almina. 

She  stopped  her  walk  in  front  of  her  sister. 

"  Temple  was  Roger's  mother's  maiden  name.  I  s'pose 
that's  why  he  named  his  daughter  so.  He  thought  a  lot  of 
his  mother." 

The  tones  of  the  speaker  were  so  different  from  her  ordi- 
nary voice  that  Olivia  looked  up  at  her  in  a  kind  of  fright. 

"Here,"  she  said,  extending  the  paper,  "  I  wish  you'd  read 
it.  'Taint  very  plain  writing.  I  s'pose  you've  made  it  out 
once,  'n'  you  can  agin.     Jest  read  it  to  me,  will  you?" 

Almina  took  the  letter,  and,  still  standing,  read  it  aloud. 

"  To  the  one  who  was  Almina  K.  Drowdy^  of  Hoyt,  Massachusetts. 

"Dear  Madame, — I  had  a  letter  from  father  last  night.  He  said 
he  thought  he  should  be  dead  by  the  time  I  got  it.  He  went  to 
Manitoba  for  his  health  almost  a  year  ago,  and  I  haven't  seen  him  since. 


S  AGAINST    HUMAN   NATURE 

You  see,  I  don't  know  which  to  tell  first,  for  I'm  not  used  to  writing, 
and  my  pen  won't  say  anything  I  want  it  to.  I'll  Avrite  just  as  things 
come  into  my  head.  I'm  a  girl,  though  folks  don't  seem  to  think  so 
when  they  just  hear  my  name  without  seeing  me.  My  grandmother  was 
a  Temple  ;  my  father  always  said  that  there  wasn't  any  better  name  un- 
der the  canopy.  So  he  named  me  that.  It  doesn't  make  any  difference 
to  me.  My  father  was  a  queer  kind  of  man.  I  reckon  I  love  him,  be- 
cause he's  my  father  ;  but  I  get  along  mighty  well  without  him.  And  I 
do  as  I  please  now,  and  I  make  Sally  do  as  I  please,  and  Bartholomew. 
You  ought  to  see  Sally  ;  but  then  you  will  see  her,  of  course,  when  you 
come  down.  Here  is  the  check  that  father  sent  for  you  to  come  down 
with.  You  see  your  name  is  on  it.  He  wrote  he  was  sure  you'd  come 
just  the  same  without  the  check  if  you  had  means  ;  but  he  didn't  know 
whether  you  had  means  or  not.  He  wanted  me  to  be  sure  and  tell 
you  that  I  needed  you.  He  said  that  would  be  enough  for  you.  But 
he's  just  plumb  mistaken  about  one  thing  ;  I  don't  need  you  one  bit. 
I'm  getting  along  splendid.  I  ride  horseback  most  of  the  time.  Some 
days  I  ride  for  hours  without  meeting  up  with  a  single  solitary  soul.  I 
like  it.  I  always  have  some  of  my  dogs  with  me,  and  Little  Bull  would 
just  as  lief  take  a  piece  out  of  the  calf  of  a  man's  leg  as  swallow  the  liv- 
er wing  of  a  roast  chicken.  So,  you  see,  I  needn't  be  afraid  as  long  as 
Little  Bull  is  Avith  me.  He's  a  common  yellow  dog,  but  I  know  you'll 
like  him  when  you  get  acquainted  with  him.  That  is,  if  you  ain't  one 
of  the  fool  kind  of  folks  who  are  afraid  of  dogs  anyway.  If  you  are 
afraid  you'll  be  bowdaciously  sorry  you  came  here,  for  there  are  more 
dogs  than  people  here,  and  I'm  glad  of  that.  Bowdacious  is  one  of 
Sally's  words,  and  I  think  it's  excellent.  It's  so  expressive.  I  like 
words  that  mean  something.  But  father's  always  tried  to  have  me  talk 
what  he  calls  English.  If  he's  really  dead  I  reckon  I  ought  to  try  more 
than  ever  to  talk  English.  I  can  talk  it  well  enough  if  I  want  to.  How 
my  pen  does  go  on  !  But  I  knew  it  was  just  no  use  at  all  for  me  to  try 
to  write  as  the  Complete  Letter-writer  instructs.  I  wouldn't  write  that 
a-way  if  I  died  for  not  doing  it. 

"  I  want  you  to  address  me  like  this  :  INIiss  Temple  Crawford,  Bus- 
bee,  North  Carolina.  That's  three  miles  away,  and  part  of  it  on  the 
State  road,  and  the  State  road  isn't  much  fun  ;  but  I  ride  to  Busbee 
two  or  three  times  a  week,  and  I  shall  go  every  day  when  it's  time  to  be- 
gin to  expect  to  hear  from  you.  You  must  tell  me  when  you  think  you'll 
arrive.  You  are  to  stop  at  Asheville  Junction,  and  not  go  on  to  Ashe- 
ville,  you  know.  I'll  be  there  with  the  wagon.  If  you  are  afraid  of 
dogs  I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  think  of  coming  at  all.  If  you  do  come, 
and  turn  out  to  be  the  kind  I  like,  I  shall  be  powerful  glad  to  have  you 
here.  \Yith  great  respect, 

"  I  remain  your  obedient  servant, 

"  Temple  Crawford." 


A    LETTER  g 

"  Postscriptum. — I  wrote  this  letter  three  days  ago,  and  now,  when  I 
come  to  read  it  over,  I'm  afraid  I  haven't  said  enough  about  your  com- 
ing. And  I've  read  father's  letter  over  again,  and  there  are  these  sen- 
tences in  it.  It  seems  to  me  somehow  you  ought  to  know  these  sen- 
tences :  '  Tell  Almina  Drowdy  that  if  she  has  not  forgotten  the  old  days 
— if  she  really  cared  as  she  thought  she  cared,  and  as  I,  too  late,  found 
that  I  cared — she  will  come  to  mv  daughter.  That  is  all  I  ask.  When 
she  knows  Temple  she  will  decide  whether  to  take  her  home  to  New 
England.  But  first,  she  must  see  the  child  in  her  own  home.  She  will 
.  not  be  likely  to  understand  the  girl  otherwise.  And  she  must  under- 
stand her  before  she  judges  her.' 

"  I  don't  know  what  this  means,  but  perhaps  you  do.  It  sounds  sen- 
timental to  me,  and  if  there  was  ever  anything  that  father  was  not  it  was 
that.  Don't  forget  to  let  me  know,  so  I  can  be  at  the  Junction  with  the 
wagon  and  the  mules." 

Almina  stopped  reading.  Her  hand  dropped,  with  the 
sheets  held  tightly. 

It  is  impossible  to  tell  how  very  strangely  this  epistle 
had  sounded  in  that  prim,  decorous  little  New- England 
room. 

Olivia  pushed  the  remaining  vamps  from  her  lap  in  her 
helpless  astonishment. 

"  Mercy,  Alminy  !"  she  exclaimed  in  a  half-whisper.  Then, 
as  her  sister  did  not  speak,  she  added,  in  the  same  voice : 
"You  ain't  thinkin' — it  ain't  crossed  your  mind  to  think  of 
such  a  thing  as — as  goin',  has  it  ?" 

The  two  sisters  stared  at  each  other.  But  in  truth  Almi- 
na did  not  see  her  companion  in  the  least,  though  her  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  her.  She  was  thinking  with  that  vague  in- 
tentness  which  is,  after  all,  but  a  phase  of  memory.  She  was 
seeing  herself  at  twenty  years.  She  was  wondering  why  she 
did  not  feel  older  now, 

"  Say,"  began  Olivia,  "you  ain't  goin'  to  tell  me  that  you 
have  got  the  slightest  idea — why,  it's  out  of  all  sense  !  It's 
jest  outrageous !  I  sh'd  like  to  know  what  Roger  Crawford 
was  thinkin'  about.     I  declare  I  should  !" 

The  other  woman  tried  to  rouse  herself. 

"What?"  she  asked. 


lO  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"You  ain't  been  listenin'  a  natom,"  remarked  Olivia,  with 
some  resentment  mingled  with  her  alarm. 

"  Well,  no,  I  haven't.  But  you  needn't  be  mad  about  it," 
was  the  answer. 

Almina  looked  down  at  the  letter,  which  she  now  carefully 
folded. 

"  I'm  all  worked  up,"  remarked  Olivia,  "  and  it's  so  sudden, 
too."     She  tried  to  speak  calmly. 

"Most  things  that  we  don't  know  anything  about  are  kind 
of  sudden,"  said  Almina. 

She  turned  and  sat  down  in  a  chair  near.  She  bent  for- 
ward, and  rested  her  chin  on  her  two  hands.  She  was  never 
conventional  about  anything,  even  her  attitudes,  and  this  lack 
of  conventionality  had  always  worried  her  sister.  What 
could  be  expected  of  a  woman  who  had  refused  to  marry  a 
man  when  she  had  nothing  against  him  .'* 

In  her  secret  heart  Olivia  was  convinced  that  such  a 
woman  was  liable  to  do  almost  any  strange  and  monstrous 
thing. 

Olivia  glanced  at  her  sister.  She  tried  to  speak  meekly 
as  she  said  that  "she  s'posed  when  the  time  come  that  Al- 
miny  would  tell  what  she  thought  of  a  letter  like  that.  As 
for  her,  Olivia  Wilson,  she  was  free  to  say  it  was  the  strangest 
thing  she  ever  seen.  How  old  was  that  girl,  that  Temple 
Crawford,  anyway  ?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Ain't  you  any  idea  ?" 

"  No,  of  course  not." 

Almina  sat  up  straight.  Her  face  had  such  an  unusual 
expression  upon  it  that  her  sister  was  really  frightened.  She 
rose  and  moved  to  the  door.  With  her  hand  on  the  latch, 
she  said  she  would  get  a  few  drops  of  red  lavender  and 
some  water.  It  didn't  make  much  matter  what  kind  of  a 
spell  was  coming  on ;  red  lavender  was  good  for  all  spells, 
whatever  their  nature. 

Almina  burst  into  a  laugh,  rose,  and  went  to  her  sister's 
side.     She  put  one  hand  on  Olivia's  shoulder. 


A    LETTER  II 

"  I  do  wish  I  believed  in  red  lavender  as  much  as  you  do, 
Livy,"  she  exclaimed.     "  But  I  don't  need  any  now." 

"  Can't  you  relieve  my  mind,  Alminy  V  wistfully  asked  the 
other. 

"  If  I  could  relieve  my  own  mind  I'd  relieve  yours,"  was 
the  answer. 

"  I  shouldn't  think  you'd  give  such  a  matter  a  thought." 

"  Wellj  I  do.    I  laid  awake  all  last  night  givin'  it  thoughts." 

"Oh,  Alminy!" 

Olivia's  comely,  unwrinkled  face  began  to  pucker  as  if  its 
owner  were  about  to  cry. 

"But  how  can  you  go.'"'  she  asked,  despairingly.  "You 
can't  leave  your  hens  or  your  pig ;  'n'  you  live  so  far  off 
'taint  handy  for  my  husband  to  do  your  chores." 

"  You  could  take  my  hens,  'n'  you  could  eat  my  pig,"  re- 
plied Almina. 

Olivia  now  began  really  to  weep. 

"So  you  are  goin' !"  she  cried.  "'N'  North  Caroliny's  a 
dretful  place.  'N'  Freddy  '11  grow  up,  'n'  you  won't  know 
any  of  his  cunnin'  ways." 

"  Oh  dear  !"  responded  Almina.  "  I  told  you  I  ain't  made 
up  my  mind.  I  guess  I'll  go  home  now  'n'  p'raps  I  shall 
have  some  light." 

The  speaker  walked  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  She 
passed  through  it,  and  Mrs.  Wilson  returned  to  her  chair, 
gathering  up  the  scattered  vamps  in  a  confused  way.  She 
was  "all  upset  in  her  mind,"  as  she  told  herself,  and  she 
began  to  fear  seriously  that  the  man  would  come  for  the 
case  before  they  were  all  buttoned. 

She  was  trying  to  thread  her  needle,  and  failing  on  ac- 
count of  the  blur  over  her  eyes,  when  she  heard  a  sound  in 
the  next  room,  and  in  a  moment  her  sister  entered  again. 

She  had  a  child  in  her  arms.  This  child  was  rubbing  its 
eyes  with  its  fists,  and  yawning  till  one  saw  the  red  roof  of 
its  mouth  and  its  few  milky-white  upper  teeth. 

"  What  do  you  think  he  was  doing  now  ?"  asked  his  aunt. 
"  He  was  off  the  bed,  and  had  got  as  far  's  the  suller  door." 


12  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

I 

The  mother  sprang  up  and  held  out  her  arms. 

"  Who  left  that  suller  door  open  ?"  she  exclaimed.  "  That 
door  '11  be  the  death  of  me  yet.  Somebody's  always  leavin' 
of  it  open.  Give  him  to  me.  It's  no  use  for  me  to  try  to 
git  that  case  of  shoes  done,  for  I  can't  do  it." 

Almina  put  Freddy  in  his  mother's  lap,  and  now  really 
started  for  home.  She  turned  when  she  was  in  the  yard  to 
look  back.  She  saw  Olivia  rocking  back  and  forth  with  her 
boy's  head  on  her  shoulder.  Olivia  did  not  see  her  sister  at 
all.     It  was  as  if  she  had  forgotten  her. 

"Why  should  not  I  go?"  was  the  question  in  the  woman's 
mind.  "  Livy  has  Freddy.  I'm  glad  she's  got  him.  And 
I — why,"  with  a  smile,  "I've  got  my  hens  and  my  pig.  I 
ought  to  have  had  a  dog.  Yes,"  beginning  to  walk  very 
fast,  "  there  wa'n't  only  one  reason  why  I  shouldn't  have  had 
a  dog — and  that  was  'cause  I  should  have  got  to  lovin'  it 
so.  It's  such  a  foolish  thing  to  git  to  lovin' — now,"  with  an- 
other smile,  "there  ain't  no  such  danger  'bout  hens  and  a 
pig ;  though  I  did  hear  of  a  woman  that  set  an  awful  store 
by  a  hen.  But,  as  for  me,  the  way  a  hen  '11  pull  up  one  leg 
out  of  sight,  look  at  you  with  one  eye,  and  wink  upward,  's 
enough  for  me.     I  can't  love  a  hen." 

Nevertheless,  when  Almina  Drowdy  reached  her  own 
home  she  went  to  the  barn  and  took  some  corn  in  her 
apron.  She  flung  this  corn  about  in  the  yard,  calling  in 
a  high  voice  as  she  did  so,  "Cut,  cut,  cut!"  and  the  white 
Brahma  hens  began  to  gather,  picking  up  the  corn  so  fast 
that  their  bills  on  the  gravel  made  a  noise  like  falling  hail. 

Almina's  face  settled  into  a  deep  gravity  as  she  watched 
them. 

"  Livy's  got  enough,"  she  said  aloud.  "  I  could  give  'em 
to  old  Widder  George.  Yes,  I  could  do  that.  But  I'd  give 
the  pig  to  Freddy,  'n'  he  could  call  it  his." 

The  woman  turned  from  the  flock  of  eager  fowls.  She 
looked  over  the  fields  upon  which  the  early  spring  sun  was 
shining.  The  meadow  opposite  was  beginning  to  show 
green  places;  the  clumps  of  young  willows — which  ought  to 


A    LETTER  1 3 

be  rooted  out — were  revealing  in  iheir  slender  stems  that 
the  sun  had  come  again  to  the  north.  There  was  a  smell  of 
warm,  wet  earth  in  the  air.  Almina  sniffed  that  odor.  She 
didn't  believe  the  ground  smelled  like  that  anywhere  else  in 
the  world. 

She  shook  the  last  kernel  of  corn  from  her  apron.  She 
felt  the  letter  from  Carolina  in  her  pocket.  She  knew  that 
she  longed  to  see  Temple  Crawford. 

"She  ain't  had  no  bringin'  up,"  she  said,  as  if  to  the  hens. 
And  then  : 

"I  s'pose  I  could  let  my  house,  somehow." 

A  fever  seemed  to  have  entered  into  her  blood.  She  did 
not  know  that  she  had  already  decided  to  go  to  Carolina. 
She  did  not  know  it  even  the  next  day,  when  her  sister  came 
over  early  in  the  morning  to  inquire.  She  told  Olivia  that 
she  couldn't  seem  to  make  up  her  mind.  Sometimes  she 
was  drawn  one  way  and  sometimes  another.  She  couldn't 
see  her  path  clear. 

"  Can't  see  it  clear  ?"  cried  Livy.  Then  she  stopped. 
What  was  the  use?  It  was  incredible  to  her  that  her  sister 
could  give  a  thought  to  a  letter  like  that. 

She  looked  around  the  room,  as  if  in  search  of  some 
means  by  which  she  could  impress  upon  Almina  the  strange- 
ness of  her  even  considering  such  a  request  from  Roger 
Crawford's  daughter. 

She  had  never  quite  understood  about  Crawford.  She 
was  three  years  younger  than  her  sister,  and  had  been  not 
quite  eighteen  when  the  affair  happened.  It  had  not  been 
considered  necessary  to  inform  her  in  regard  to  any  of  the 
particulars.  She  only  knew  that  Almina  had  been  ready  to 
be  married,  and  that  she  did  not  marry.  Crawford  did  not 
come.  Instead  there  came  a  letter  from  him  somewhere  in 
the  South  where  he  had  to  go  on  business.  Almina  had  re- 
ceived the  letter  the  day  before  the  date  set  for  the  wed- 
ding. She  had  gone  up-stairs  to  her  own  room  to  read  it. 
After  a  while  she  had  come  down  to  the  kitchen,  where  her 
mother  and  Olivia  were.     No  one  had  been  surprised  that  a 


14  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

letter  should  arrive  ;  there  had  been  one  nearly  every  day 
since  Roger  had  gone,  six  weeks  before. 

Olivia  remembered  to  the  minutest  detail  all  concernins: 
that  time.  But  no  one  told  her  anything.  When  she  had 
asked  her  mother  what  was  the  matter,  she  had  been  an- 
swered that  "  things  have  turned  out  so's  there  'ain't  goin'  to 
be  any  wedding.     Other  arrangements  have  been  made." 

And  that  was  all.  Naturally  she  had  almost  forgotten 
Roger  Crawford  in  all  these  years.  But  now  she  recalled 
him,  and  hated  him  with  renewed  freshness,  as  with  the 
thought  of  him  came  the  memory  of  what  her  sister's  face 
had  been  then,  and  for  long  after. 

But  Almina  had  borne  up  bravely.  She  had  informed  her 
friends  that  the  engagement  was  broken,  and  when  asked 
where  Mr.  Crawford  was  she  had  replied  that  he  was  obliged 
to  stay  in  the  South.  She  did  not  even  specify  that  he  was 
in  North  Carolina.  But  every  one  knew  he  was  there,  for 
the  woman  who  kept  the  post-office  saw  that  his  letters  of 
late  had  been  postmarked  at  Asheville,  and  as  she  knew, 
therefore  a  great  many  others  knew,  for  what  post-mistress 
is  going  to  keep  to  herself  a  knowledge  so  valuable? 

But  no  one  was  aware  of  one  fact  which  Almina  communi- 
cated to  her  mother  that  night.  Mrs.  Drowdy  was  a  woman 
not  given  to  the  expression  of  affection.  But  she  loved  her 
children,  though  she  never  caressed  them,  and  seemed  to 
think  that  caresses  were  an  infallible  sign  of  what  she  would 
have  called  "flatness." 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  the  night  that  she  had  risen  noise- 
lessly and  gone  into  her  daughter's  room.  She  found  the  girl 
lying  perfectly  still  upon  her  bed.  Mrs.  Drowdy  extinguished 
the  light  she  carried,  and  laid  herself  silently  down  by  her 
child.  She  put  out  her  hand  and  groped  for  her  daughter's 
hand,  and,  having  found  it,  she  lay  motionless. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Almina  spoke.  At  first  she 
felt  something  like  resentment  that  any  one,  even  her  moth- 
er, should  intrude  upon  the  solitude  which  just  then  was  the 
only  thing  she  wished  for. 


A    LETTER 


15 


But  at  last  she  spoke. 

"  Mother,"  she  said  in  a  whisper,  "  I  did  not  tell  you  all 
the  letter  said." 

A  pause,  during  which  Mrs.  Drowdy  did  not  speak.  She 
only  held  the  hand  more  closely. 

"  He  is  married  already." 

"  What !" 

Mrs.  Drowdy  started  up  to  a  sitting  posture.  In  the  dark- 
ness her  face  grew  purple  with  the  anger  that  surged  up  to 
her  brain.  This  was  even  worse  than  she  had  thought.  It 
had  even  come  to  her  mind  that  perhaps  things  might  be 
explained,  and  the  marriage  take  place,  though  she  felt  that 
she,  herself,  could  never  forgive  Roger  Crawford,  and  never 
wanted  to  see  him.  But  she  had  decided  that  she  would  ap- 
pear to  forgive  him  for  her  child's  sake. 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl,  "he  was  married  four  days  ago.  He 
wrote  to  me  right  away  after — after — " 

Almina's  voice  stopped. 

Mrs.  Drowdy  waited  a  moment  before  she  said,  in  a  dry, 
even  voice  : 

"  He  is  a  scamp,  and  you  are  well  red  of  him.  You'll  live 
to  see  the  day  when  you'll  despise  him, 'n'  thank  the  Lord 
you  ain't  his  wife." 

"I  wish  I  could  despise  him  now,"  said  the  girl. 

The  next  moment  she  cried  out  in  a  passionate  voice: 
"Oh,  how  can  I  stop  loving  him  !  It  will  kill  me  to  go  on 
loving  him  like  this  !" 

"  No,"  said  the  mother,  sternly,  "it  won't  kill  you,  either. 
I  know  'bout  human  nature.  Things  don't  kill.  I'm  goin' 
to  try  to  think  of  something  to  take  up  your  mind." 

"Neither  mother  nor  daughter  slept  that  night;  but  they 
did  not  talk  any  more,  save  for  a  single  word  now  and 
then. 

When  Mrs.  Drowdy,  in  the  early  dawn  of  a  summer  morn- 
ing, went  back  to  the  room  vv^here  her  husband  was  now  dress- 
ing, she  was  met  by  the  anxious  question, 

"How's  Alminy?" 


l6  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  I  guess  she's  as  well's  she  can  be.  That  vile  wretch  is 
married  to  somebody  else.     He  told  her  so  in  his  letter." 

Benjamin  Drowdy  did  not  speak,  but  he  looked  murderous. 

His  wife  went  on. 

"  I  hope  you  c'n  spare  the  money  to  let  her  go  to  her 
Aunt  Johnson's  for  a  few  months.  It  '11  be  a  great  change ; 
and  Cordelia  Johnson  is  a  good  woman,  and  a  wise  woman, 
if  she  is  my  sister.  Everything  '11  be  new.  Alminy  '11  be- 
gin to  git  interested  after  a  while." 

Mr.  Drowdy  did  spare  the  money.  The  Johnsons  lived  in 
Boston,  and  they  had  money  enough  to  travel  a  little  when 
they  chose.  Almina  spent  nearly  a  year  with  them.  When 
she  came  home  she  looked  so  well  that  everybody  said  that 
Alminy  Drowdy  was  gittin'  over  her  disappointment  first- 
rate.     They  guessed  she  hadn't  much  deep  feelin'  after  all. 

Olivia  Wilson  felt  her  hatred  for  Roger  Crawford  revive 
as  she  gazed  at  her  sister  in  consternation  that  Almina  could 
feel  anything  but  repulsion  at  the  thought  of  Crawford's 
daughter.     And  what  a  letter  that  girl  had  written. 

"I'm  supprised,"  said  Olivia,  "that  you  don't  dislike  even 
the  thought  of  Temple  Crawford." 

"  Why  should  I  dislike  her?"  Almina  fixed  her  clear  gray 
eyes  on  her  sister's  face. 

"Why?  Because — because  —  why,  I  never  seen  nothin' 
so  outrageous.  And  the  way  that  man  treated  you  !  Of 
course  he  never  loved  you  !" 

"  I  know  he  didn't  treat  me  well,"  was  the  response,  "  but 
I  think  he  loved  me  ;  and  " — here  the  woman's  voice  changed 
greatly — "  I've  decided  that  I've  loved  him  all  these  years." 

"Oh,  Alminy!" 

This  was  what  Olivia  always  said  when  other  words  failed 
her.  She  made  up  her  mind  then  and  there  that  she  would 
not  speak  another  word  on  the  subject  of  her  sister's  going 
to  Carolina.  But  she  broke  her  resolve  so  far  as  to  say  in  a 
melancholy  manner  a  few  days  later  that  she  didn't  see  how 
Alminy  could  go  away  when  Freddy  hadn't  half  got  through 
having  such  cunnin'  ways. 


A    LETTER  17 

But  Almina  did  go.  She  gave  the  hens  to  the  Widow 
George  and  the  pig  to  Freddy.  She  found  a  woman  to  live 
in  her  house  until  it  could  be  let,  and  in  one  week  from  the 
time  she  had  received  Temple  Crawford's  letter  she  was  in 
Mr.  Wilson's  open  wagon,  and  he  was  driving  her  to  the  sta- 
tion to  take  the  cars  that  connected  with  the  Fall  River 
boat  to  New  York. 

Her  sister,  having  left  Freddy  in  charge  of  a  neighbor,  was 
sitting  on  the  back  seat  with  her,  and  was  crying  gently  and 
exasperatingly  all  the  way. 

Once  Mr.  Wilson  looked  back  over  his  shoulder  and  asked 
with  an  impatience  which  he  could  not  restrain : 

"  Livy,  ain't  you  'bout  cried  'nough  ?  This  ain't  Alminy's 
funeral — nor  mine,  neither." 

Olivia  tried  to  speak  steadily  as  she  answered  that  it  might's 
well  be  a  funeral  fur's  her  feelin's  were  concerned. 

Almina  herself  was  not  gay,  but  she  cheerfully  prophesied 
that  Freddy  would  take  up  his  mother's  mind. 

"  And  you  know  I  sh'U  write  real  often,"  she  added. 
"  Besides,  I  may  come  back  any  time." 

But  Almina  could  not  help  crying  when  she  hugged  her 
sister  at  the  station  before  the  cars  came. 

"  If  I  should  happen  to  stay  a  good  while,"  she  said, 
brokenly,  "don't  let  Freddy  forgit  me." 

"No,  no,  I  won't,"  sobbed  Olivia,  and  the  train  rolled 
along,  and  seemed  to  sweep  up  Almina  Drowdy  into  itself, 
and  then  dash  off  again. 

"  I  can't  seem  to  make  it  seem  real,"  said  Olivia,  as  she 
and  her  husband  drove  back  along  the  familiar  country 
road. 

"Then  if  you  can't  I  do  wish  you'd  stop  cryin',"  said  Mr. 
Wilson.  "I'm  awful  sorry  myself  she's  gone, 'n'  I  think 
it's  a  fool's  errand.  But  Alminy's  old  enough  to  do  what 
she  pleases.     Now,  do  cheer  up,  Livy." 

So  Olivia  gradually  cheered  up,  and  by  the  time  she  was 
back  again  with  Freddy  she  had  begun  to  be  reconciled. 

And  the  neighborhood,  after  it  had  raked  up  that  affair 


l8  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

about  Roger  Crawford  and  talked  it  all  over  again,  subsided 
with  perfect  calmness  into  the  habit  of  seeing  some  one  else 
in  Almina's  house  and  in  her  pew  at  church. 

Almina  herself  could  hardly  have  had  a  more  strange  feel- 
ing if  she  had  suddenly  cut  adrift  from  this  planet  and  had 
taken  passage  for  Mars. 

But  she  did  not  regret.  With  every  hour  that  passed  her 
mind  turned  more  and  more  strongly  from  the  place  she  had 
left,  and  towards  the  place  to  which  she  was  journeying. 

She  believed  that  she  was  a  hard-hearted  wretch,  because 
she  did  not  think  more  of  her  sister  and  of  Freddy.  Here 
she  smiled. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  she  asked  herself,  "  that  I'm  going  where 
I  sha'n't  know  how  many  shoe-buttons  Freddy  swallers,  nor 
how  many  times  the  cat  scratches  him  ?" 

Almina  had  never  been  out  of  Massachusetts,  therefore 
even  the  houses  of  Fall  River,  as  seen  in  the  spring  twilight, 
had  a  foreign  look,  and  she  already  felt  as  if  she  were  in  a 
strange  land. 

When  she  walked  over  the  planking  that  led  to  the 
steamer  she  could  hardly  believe  she  was  in  America. 
Without  really  having  given  any  thought  to  the  matter,  she 
now  knew  that  she  had  expected  this  craft  to  be  a  kind  of 
ferry. 

There  was  a  crowd  of  people.  Somehow  she  was  pushed 
along  into  a  dim,  electric-lighted  place  where  women  were 
sitting  on  magnificently  upholstered  couches,  and  where 
negro  men  in  blue  uniforms  occasionally  walked  through, 
their  feet  making  no  noise  on  the  thick  carpet.  There  was 
a  gentle  motion  ;  there  was  the  sound  of  wheels  outside  hur- 
rying along  the  wharf,  the  cries  of  drivers,  the  ringing  of  en- 
gine-bells, and  presently  a  voice  somewhere  shouted  : 

"  All  ashore  't's  goin'  ashore  !"  and  then  the  enormous 
bulk  that  was  the  steamboat  became  possessed  of  a  little 
more  motion. 

Almina  all  at  once  was  conscious  of  a  choking  sensation. 
Hardly  knowing  what  she   did,  she  rose  and   hurried  out 


A    LETTER  I9 


through  the  large  doors  by  which  she  had  entered  the  ladies' 
cabin.     She  was  possessed  by  a  longing  to  see  her  country 


again. 


She  stepped  outside,  not  minding  who  pushed  against  her. 

There  were  the  shores  of  Massachusetts  sliding  away 
from  her.  Her  hands  held  tightly  the  package  of  lunch 
which  her  sister  had  carefully  put  up  for  her.  It  was  not 
yet  dark.  The  sun  had  gone  down,  but  there  was  a  cool, 
apple-green  tinge  over  the  west.  The  air  from  the  land 
blew  in  a  steady,  chill  breath. 

Almina  shivered.     She  did  not  know  that  there  were  tears 

on  her  face. 

But  when  she  turned  to  go  back  to  the  cabin  it  was  curi- 
ous that  she  was  not  thinking  about  leaving  home.  The 
words  in  her  mind  were  : 

"  I  do  wonder  why  I  always  think  of  Roger  as  a  young 
man,"  and  her  thought  added,  coldly,  "  Mebby  he's  dead  j 
yes,  I  s'pose  he's  dead." 

But  no  tears  came.  Strangest  of  all  was  the  fact  that 
from  the  moment  she  had  contemplated  this  journey  she  had 
felt  as  if  she  were  young  again.  She  scoffed  at  this  thought, 
but  she  could  not  quite  put  it  away  from  her.  Going  by  a 
large  mirror  she  accidentally  looked  at  herself. 

"  Oh,  goodness  me !"  she  exclaimed  in  a  whisper,  as  she 
saw  the  middle-aged  face.  "  I  guess  I  ain't  so  young  that 
everybody  '11  be  fallin'  in  love  with  me  on  this  journey." 

She  sat  down  on  one  of  the  gorgeous  chairs  and  forced 
herself  to  eat  a  doughnut,  although  swallowing  a  morsel 
seemed  wellnigh  impossible. 

The  stewardess  came  and  asked  her  if  she  had  a  state- 
room. 

"I 'don't  think  I  have,"  she  answered. 

The  black  woman  replied  that  she  would  probably  know 
it  if  she  did  have  one. 

"Yes,"  said  Almina,  with  a  nervous  laugh,  "just  the  same 
's  I'd  know  if  I  had  a  bandbox  or  an  umbrella,  I  s'pose." 

The  attendant  moved  away,  and  presently  Almina  saw  her 


20  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

talking  and  laughing  with  a  yellow  man  in  a  blue  coat,  and 
nodding  towards  her. 

The  night  pi^ssed  somehow.  She  spent  it  lying  motion- 
less on  a  mattress  on  the  floor  of  the  cabin,  in  a  row  of  other 
mattresses  and  other  women.  Two  or  three  times  in  the 
dim  light  she  saw  a  black  man  stepping  along  between  the 
beds.     But  no  one  seemed  to  mind  him. 

And  in  the  morning  there  was  New  York.  She  was  out 
on  deck  before  the  sun  was  up.  She  did  not  feel  like  crying 
now.  The  new  day,  the  magnificent  picture  of  the  city  that 
lay,  calm  and  still,  under  the  crimsoning  sky,  held  her  gaze. 
The  glitter  of  the  water,  the  white  paths  left  by  the  ferry- 
boats and  tugs,  the  whole  effect  of  superb  life  not  yet 
awakened  for  the  morning,  thrilled  and  stirred  the  woman 
with  an  emotion  she  had  never  felt  before. 

She  wondered  how  any  one  could  ever  think  of  criticising 
that  figure  standing  with  commanding  pose  and  torch  up- 
held. She  remembered  having  read  in  a  newspaper  some- 
thing derogatory.  She  supposed  there  were  folks  just  made 
to  find  fault  with  everything. 

When  she  left  the  boat  which  transferred  her  to  Jersey  City 
her  mind  was  strained  to  the  utmost  to  assure  itself  that  she 
was  actually  in  the  right  city  and  really  in  the  right  car.  She 
knew  that  cars  were  always  being  detached  and  sent  off  on 
other  tracks,  for  no  other  purpose,  apparently,  than  to  take 
people  to  places  where  they  did  not  want  to  go,  and  to  cause 
them  to  buy  new  tickets  that  they  might  get  back  again. 

In  recalling  the  remainder  of  the  journey  it  seemed  to 
Miss  Drowdy  that  she  did  nothing  but  ask  conductors  if  it 
were  really  true  that  she  was  in  the  right  car. 

Nothing  would  convince  her  that  she  could  ever  reach 
Asheville  Junction.  She  could  not  give  her  mind  to  the 
strange  sights  which  hour  by  hour  glided  by  her.  After- 
wards she  remembered  them. 

She  would  not  take  a  sleeping-car.  Why  should  she  do 
so,  when  it  was  an  impossibility  for  her  to  sleep  a  wink  ? 

But    she    must   have  been  dozing  when    a  woman    in    a 


A    LETTER  21 

deep  scoop  bonnet  came   and  sat   down  beside   her   and 
asked,  "  Where  be  yo'  from  ?" 

"Massachusetts,"  said  Almina,  proudly. 

«'  What  township's  that  ?"  was  the  next  inquiry ;  and  Al- 
mina's  pride  gave  place  to  pity  for  one  who  had  never 
heard  of  Massachusetts.     Could  it  be  possible?" 

The  woman  had  a  grimy  face  with  sharp  cheek-bones  and 
sunken  eyes.     She  had  a  calico  bundle  which  she  kept  from 
rolling  off  her  lap  with  two  hands  which  ended  in  long,  black 
nails. 
•  "  Gwine  fur .?"  she  asked,  pleasantly. 

"To  Asheville  Junction." 

"  So'm  I.     It's  thur  nex'  place." 

"  Is  it .''"  eagerly.     "  I  must  have  dropped  asleep." 

Almina  grasped  her  satchel  and  sat  up  rigidly,  ready  to 
jump  off  at  an  instant's  notice. 

"  Do  you  know  anybody  by  the  name  of  Crawford .''"  she 
asked,  after  a  silence. 

The  woman  ruminated. 

"  Naw.     Reckon  they  don't  live  on  thur  State  road  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  helplessly.  After  this  there  was  si- 
lence. 

Presently  the  train  began  to  slow.  Almina  stood  up  in 
her  place.     She  forgot  her  fatigue  in  her  excitement. 

It  was  certainly  at  Asheville  Junction  that  Temple  Craw- 
ford had  said  she  would  be  "  with  the  mules." 


II 

A    HORSEBACK   RIDE 

Almina  Drowdy  was  left  standing  on  the  platform  at  the 
junction  with  the  woman  in  the  scoop  bonnet.  There  seemed 
to  be  nobody  else  there.  A  roped  and  battered  trunk  had  been 
thrown  off.     This  trunk  had  just  come  from  New  England. 

Almina,  weary  and  faint  and  dazed,  looked  about  her. 
The  great  hills  standing  here  and  there  almost  frightened 
her  at  this  moment.  In  the  distance  were  blue  or  cloudy 
peaks  —  Almina  had  lived  in  a  flat  country.  She  could 
hardly  breathe  as  she  looked  at  these  mountains.  For  an 
instant  she  forgot  that  any  one  was  to  meet  her. 

"Don't  you  know  whar  yo'  gwine?"  asked  the  other  wom- 
an, hesitatingly.  "  'Cos  if  yo'  don't,  come  'long  of  me,  an'  I'll 
fry  ye  some  meat  an'  cakes.     You'll  be  welcome.'^ 

The  last  words  with  an  indescribable  drawl. 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  genuineness  of  this  hospitable 
offer. 

Almina  turned.  She  felt  so  desolate  that  she  tried  to 
draw  herself  up  with  pride. 

"  My  friends  will  come,"  she  answered.  Then  she  choked 
with  sheer  homesickness.  "  You're  dretful  kind,"  she  added, 
"  but  I  guess  I  better  wait  right  here." 

She  watched  the  wearer  of  the  scoop  as  she  walked  down 
the  yellow  road.     She  went  with  a  slouching,  long  stride. 

Almina  turned  away  and  felt  more  forlorn  than  ever.  She 
went  and  sat  down  on  her  trunk.  She  tried  not  to  see  the 
mountains.  Nothing  should  make  her  Remain  in  such  a 
country  as  this,  Olivia  had  been  right.  She  ought  to  have 
known  enough  to  stay  at  home. 


A    HORSEBACK    RIDE  23 

A  long-bearded  man  followed  by  two  hound  dogs  came 
shambling  from  the  other  end  of  the  platform.  He  fixed  a 
contemplative  gaze  upon  the  woman  sitting  on  her  trunk. 

"  Waitin'  ?"  he  said  at  last. 

"  Yes." 

Having  received  this  answer,  the  man  shambled  into  the 
station.  The  dogs  came  up,  and  carefully  and  exhaustively 
sniffed  at  Almina,  then  they  also  went  into  the  station. 

Almina  gazed  feverishly  up  and  down  the  road  which 
crossed  the  track  and  seemed  to  lead  eventually  into  dread- 
ful mountainous  wild  spaces. 

Within  fifteen  minutes'  time  two  small  loads  of  wood 
passed.     They  were  not  at  all  like  New  England  loads. 

Almina  wished  that  she  had  never  accustomed  herself  to 
drinking  coffee,  because  if  she  had  not  done  so  she  would 
not  now  suffer  so  for  the  want  of  it. 

No  mules  visible  anywhere.  There  was  a  white  pony 
with  a  woman  on  its  back  coming  at  a  furious  rate  along  the 
road  at  the  left  hand. 

But  this  pony  did  not  interest  Almina  in  the  least.  She 
watched  it,  however,  and  very  soon  it  became  plain  that  it 
was  coming  to  the  station. 

The  animal  kept  up  its  headlong  speed  until  the  very  in- 
stant it  stopped,  and  then  its  rider  was  apparently  discharged 
from  its  back,  instead  of  dismounting,  as  is  the  custom.  She 
landed  on  her  feet,  fortunately,  and  Almina  now  saw  that 
she  was  a  girl  of  twenty,  perhaps,  though  her  dress  gave  a 
younger  appearance.  Her  skirt  was  short,  of  some  kind  of 
faded  red  stuff;  she  wore  a  black  velvet  garment  which  did 
not  fit,  and  had  the  appearance  of  being  really  a  man's  sack- 
coat.  The  sleeves  were  very  long  and  turned  up  at  the 
wrist,  so  that  the  wearer's  hands  might  be  unfettered. 

These  hands  were  bare,  and  tanned  to  the  very  last  degree 
of  brownness.  It  was  a  startling  thing  to  see  on  the  left 
hand  a  quite  magnificent  diamond  ring.  A  soft  felt  hat  was 
on  her  head. 

Brown   leather   leggings  were  on  this   girFs   ankles,  and 


24  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

dilapidated  congress  boots  covered  her  feet.  There  was  a 
spur  attached  to  one  of  these  boots. 

This  person  advanced  straight  to  the  woman  sitting  on  the 
trunk  and  stopped  before  her. 

"Almina  K.  Drowdy?"  she  said,  in  an  interrogative 
manner. 

Ahnina  jumped  up. 

"That's  my  name,"  she  answered. 

"  I  thought  you  couldn't  be  anybody  else,"  said  the  girl  ; 
and  she  added,  with  the  utmost  frankness,  "  I  made  sure 
when  I  was  coming  down  the  road  there  that  nobody  but  a 
Yankee  could  sit  like  that  on  a  trunk." 

The  Yankee's  tired  face  flushed  a  little,  and  the  Yankee's 
eyes  darted  an  unpleasant  fire. 

"Oh,  please  don't  look  that  way!"  exclaimed  the  girl. 
"You'll  have  to  make  up  your  mind  not  to  get  mad  with  me, 
for  if  you  do  you'll  be  mad  most  of  the  time.  And  really, 
I'm  powerful  good  at  heart." 

Here  the  speaker  laughed.  She  stopped  laughing  imme- 
diately, and  looked  intently  at  her  companion.  She  ad- 
vanced a  step  nearer. 

"  I'm  going  to  like  you,  I  do  believe,"  she  said,  "  I'm  mighty 
thankful  for  that.  I  was  getting  along  well  enough  without 
anybody,  though.     I  reckon  you  know  who  I  am .?" 

Almina  replied  that  she  could  guess,  but  that  she  didn't 
feel  called  upon  to  guess. 

"  Temple  Crawford,"  was  the  answer.  "  I'm  not  much  to 
look  at,  but  there's  a  most  awful  lot  to  me  when  you  come 
to  know  me,"  another  laugh. 

"  I  was  lookin'  for  mules,"  now  remarked  Almina. 

She  had  entirely  forgotten  her  hunger  and  her  fatigue  in 
her  interest  in  what  she  privately  called  "  the  specimen  " 
before  her.  She  wondered  what  the  people  of  Hoyt,  Mass., 
would  say  to  this  girl. 

"For  muels?"  repeated  the  girl.  "Oh,  I  know  it.  I  was 
coming  with  the  muels  and  the  wagon  ;  only  when  I  went  to 
harness  I  couldn't  find  the  gears — that  is,  only  part  of  the 


A    HORSEBACK    RIDE  25 

gears.  I  got  one  mule  hitched  to  the  wagon,  and  I  had  to 
give  it  up.  Sally  was  gone,  and  Bartholomew  was  gone  ;  and 
so  there  was  an  end  to  it,  for  the  gears  were  gone,  too.  But 
Thimble  was  left.  That's  my  pony.  So  I  saddled  and 
bridled,  and  I  picked  up  my  needles  and  flew ;  and  here 
I  am." 

It  would  be  quite  impossible  to  imagine  any  one  more 
free  from  shyness  or  embarrassment  of  any  kind  than  this 
girl.  And  yet  she  did  not  strike  Miss  Drowdy  as  being 
iDold ;  only  as  utterly  without  self- consciousness.  The 
woman  hardly  knew  whether  to  be  shocked  or  not. 

"  You  see,"  remarked  Temple,  "  I  didn't  put  Buncombe 
County  on  it." 

"What?" 

"  Why,  Buncombe  County  on  my  direction  to  you  when  you 
wrote.  But  I  got  your  letter  all  the  same.  You  look  about 
fainted  away.  I'll  make  'em  give  you  some  breakfast  over 
yonder.  It's  a  boarding-house.  They  say  the  coffee  there's 
enough  to  make  you  wish  you'd  never  been  born.  Come. 
Your  trunk  '11  be  just  as  safe  if  you  don't  sit  on  it  every 
minute." 

The  girl  took  hold  of  Miss  Drowdy's  arm  gently  and  be- 
gan to  walk  her  across  the  track  towards  a  two-story  house 
that  stood  at  a  little  distance. 

This  house  the  two  entered  at  the  rear  door;  and  imme- 
diately you  entered  here  you  felt  as  if  you  were  in  a  log- 
cabin.  There  was  an  enormous  fire  on  an  enormous  hearth, 
and  a  general  black,  dingy  look  diffused  over  everything.  A 
bed  was  in  one  corner — a  bed  which  still  remained  as  its  oc- 
cupant had  left  it. 

A  thin  woman  in  a  dark,  flapping  calico  gown  came  for- 
ward from  somewhere  where  there  was  the  sound  of  frying. 
She  creased  her  cheeks  in  the  form  of  a  smile  as  she  saw 
her  guests. 

"It's  yo',  is  it,  Miss  Temple?"  she  said.  "Howdy  this 
mawnin'  ?     Set  by,  won't  yo'  ?" 

Almina  could  not  help  feeling  that  she  was  having  a  thrill- 


26  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

ing  and  unusual  experience.  In  her  inmost  soul  she  had 
never  believed  that  anybody  ever  said  "  howdy."  She  had 
seen  that  word  in  books,  and  had  always  considered  it  a 
made-up  term.     Now  she  had  actually  heard  it. 

"  I  want  you  to  give  this  lady  a  breakfast,"  said  Temple. 
"  Give  it  to  her  right  soon,  for  she's  starving.  She's  just  from 
Massachusetts." 

The  woman  turned  her  cadaverous  face  towards  Almina 
for  an  instant. 

"  I've  hearn  there  was  such  a  place,"  she  said,  as  if  she 
still  doubted  the  fact. 

Then  she  left  the  room,  her  petticoats  flapping  about  her 
ankles. 

Almina  sat  staring  into  the  fire.  She  did  not  think  now 
that  it  made  much  difference  whether  she  ever  had  any- 
thing to  eat  or  not.  She  might  as  well  die  first  as  last.  And 
she  should  never  know  any  more  of  Freddy's  cunning 
ways. 

At  this  thought  she  could  not  help  smiling.  She  looked 
up  and  found  Temple  Crawford's  eyes  fixed  upon  her.  They 
were  rather  unusual  eyes,  of  a  golden  black,  and  they  were 
set  wide  apart,  under  heavy,  straight  brows.  But  the  brows 
were  not  dark,  they  were  light  brown,  as  was  her  hair,  which 
was  shingled  like  a  boy's. 

This  close-clipped  hair  revealed  plainly  the  shape  of  her 
head,  which  was  high  above  the  ears,  and  markedly  full  also 
in  those  regions  where  phrenologists  used  to  locate  the  af- 
fections and  passions.  But  phrenology  is  now  an  exploded 
science,  and  this  girl's  head,  perhaps,  was  no  index  to  her 
character.  It  was,  nevertheless,  somehow  a  notable  head, 
and  now  that  the  drooping  felt  hat  was  removed,  Almina 
could  not  help  gazing  at  it. 

"  I  reckon  you're  thinkin'  about  your  home  ?"  said  Tem- 
ple, as  she  caught  her  companion's  glance. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  answer,  "  and  about  you,  too.  You  don't 
look  like  your  father  one  bit." 

The  girl  advanced  and  sat  down  in  a  chair  near  Almina, 


A    HORSEBACK    RIDE  27 

contemplating  her  closely.     Instead  of  replying,  after  a  si- 
lence she  said  : 

"  I  think  you  have  awfully  good  eyes."  She  sighed  heav- 
ily. "Too  good.  And  if  you  stay  with  me  you'll  be  miser- 
able if  I'm  not  a  respectable  sort  of  a  girl."  Another  sigh. 
"And  I'm  not.  I'm  a  wild  animal,  and  I  like  to  be.  That's 
the  very  worst  part  of  it,  Miss  Drowdy  :  I  like  to  be  a  wild 
animal.  I  reckon  I  mav  get  to  be  kind  of  a  Nebuchad- 
nezzar.  He  ate  grass,  didn't  he?  I  sha'n't  eat  grass.  But 
I  don't  like  folks,  and  civilization,  and  smiling  when  you 
want  to  swear,  and  making  believe,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing. 
Do  you.  Miss  Drowdy  ?" 

"  I  don't  like  makin'  believe." 

"Then  you  don't  like  civilization  ?" 

Temple  pushed  back  her  chair. 

"  I  smell  your  fried  chicken  going  to  the  table,  and  here 
comes  Mrs.  Frady  to  tell  you  to  go  out  there  and  eat." 

The  girl  accompanied  the  new-comer  into  the  next  room, 
where  there  was  a  long  table  on  which  were  a  great  many 
unwashed  dishes  and  an  enormous  quantity  of  apple-butter 
in  a  big  cracked  dish.  There  were  denuded  chicken-bones 
here  and  there  among  the  dishes. 

A  troop  of  five  dogs  came  from  somewhere  unseen,  and 
accompanied  the  women  into  this  apartment.  They  were 
smooth  -  haired  hounds,  and  they  walked  about  the  room 
with  the  solemnity  of  aspect  which  is  peculiar  to  hounds, 
raising  long,  melancholy  noses  into  the  air  in  the  direction 
of  the  clothless  table. 

The  mistress  of  the  house  pointed  to  a  chair,  and  advised 
Almina  to  "  dror  right  urp  "  in  front  of  a  fresh  plate  of  chick- 
en and  biscuit. 

Almina  obeyed.  She  had  no  more  than  drawn  up  before 
one  of  the  hounds  did  the  same.  He  sat  down  close  to  her 
and  pushed  his  nose  against  her.  Another  hound  immedi- 
ately stationed  himself  on  the  other  side.  Almina  was  not 
afraid,  but  she  did  feel  somewhat  hampered,  and  found  it 
difficult  to  bend  forward  far  enough  to  reach  the  biscuit. 


28  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

The  mistress  hustled  a  few  bones  into  a  soiled  plate,  then 
pushed  the  plate  towards  her  guest.  The  dish  slid  along  the 
table  and  paused  near  Miss  Drowdy. 

"  Them  thur  dawgs,"  said  Mrs.  Frady,  "  are  everlastin'ly 
hongry.  Jest  toss  um  thur  hind-laig  of  a  rooster  now  an' 
then,  willyo'?"  with  a  laugh,  and  directing  her  request  to 
Almina,  who  immediately  seized  one  bone  and  then  another, 
which  she  administered  alternately  to  the  hound  nearest 
her.  There  were  two  or  three  crunching  movements,  and 
then,  as  Temple  expressed  it,  they  were  just  as  ready  for 
roosters'  hind-laigs  as  they  ever  were. 

"You  eat  your  breakfast  and  Til  feed  the  dogs,"  said  the 
girl. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Frady,  having  dumped  the  biscuit  and 
chicken  and  the  coffee-pot  on  the  table,  had  disappeared  in 
some  back  region,  where  her  flat  drawl  could  be  heard  in 
one  continuous  stream,  uninterrupted  by  the  sound  of  any 
other  voice. 

"  She's  talking  to  herself,"  remarked  Temple.  "  She  does 
it  all  the  time,  unless  she's  at  her  eatin's  or  her  sleepin's." 

Almina  drank  some  of  the  black  drink  which  was  called 
coffee.  She  choked  a  little  over  it.  She  swallowed  some 
chicken.  She  had  long  since  passed  the  stage  of  hunger, 
and  was  now  in  that  state  of  faintness  and  fatigue  when  it 
seemed  to  her  that  she  could  never  eat  again. 

The  five  dogs  were  grouped  in  a  partial  circle  in  front  of 
Temple,  who  tried  to  distribute  bones  impartially,  and  who 
administered  reproof  and  reproach  when  there  was  too  much 
snatching. 

"Now  don't  you  be  as  greedy  as  human  beings,"  Almina 
heard  her  saying.  "  Jim,  you  let  Short  Tail  have  this. 
Stop!  You  villun,  you  !  Fll  pull  it  out  of  your  mouth! 
You've  had  three  to  Devil's  one.  Devil,  why  don't  you  pitch 
in  'n'  get  your  share  ?  Jim,  you  sha'n't  have  the  whole  skel- 
eton of  that  rooster !" 

There  was  a  scuffle ;  growls  and  yaps,  dogs  leaping  high 
with    front    paws  extended  eagerly ;  and   the  girl  standing 


A    HORSEBACK    RIDE  29 

with  flushed  face  and  sparkling  eyes  in  the  midst,  with  her 
hands  held  up,  and  a  bone  in  each  hand. 

Almina  hastily  pushed  back  her  chair.  She  felt  as  if  she 
were  in  the  midst  of  a  dog-fight.  There  seemed  a  hundred 
hounds,  all  standing  on  their  hind-legs  and  pawing  in  the 
air.  They  were  whining  and  growling  and  slobbering.  They 
were  making  frantic  leaps  up  at  the  bones,  and  falling  back, 
sometimes  rolling  over  on  their  spines  with  their  legs  in  the 
air. 

"  I  ain't  afraid  of  dorgs,"  said  Miss  Drowdy,  "  not  as  a  gen- 
eral thing ;  but  I  should  think  that  if  there  was  any  such 
thing  as  ketchin'  hydrophoby,  why,  then,  you'd  ketch  it." 

The  girl  tried  to  push  the  animals  away  from  her.  She 
bustled  and  stamped  and  drove  until  she  had  forced  the 
troop  out  at  the  open  door. 

She  came  back  to  Almina's  side.  There  was  the  sparkle 
of  sheer,  soulless  animal  spirits  in  her  eyes. 

"They  haven't  got  hydrophobia,  so  I  can't  catch  it,"  she 
answered.     "  I  suppose  they've  spoiled  your  breakfast." 

"I  found  I  wasn't  hungry,  after  all,"  answered  Almina. 
"I  guess  I'll  pay  that  woman,  and  then  what  shall  we  do? 
I  c'n  go  'n'  set  on  my  trunk  over  there  to  the  deepo  a  spell 
longer,  though  'tain't  any  great  fun." 

Temple  picked  up  her  hat  from  the  floor.  She  stood 
swinging  it  in  her  hand  and  gazing  at  her  guest. 

"  Do  you  mean  you're  going  to  pay  Mrs.  Frady  ?  No,  in- 
deed. She'd  be  mad  to  think  of  taking  pay  for  any  one  I 
brought  here.  We'll  start  right  away  for  home.  I'm  pow- 
erful sorry  I  couldn't  come  with  the  muels.  You  see,  Bar- 
tholomew's been  aiming  to  have  the  gears  fixed  for  ages ; 
and  I  s'pose  he  has  taken  them  to-day,  of  all  days,  and  he 
knew  I  was  coming  to  meet  you.  Sometimes  I  think  the 
whole  poor  white  race  might  just  as  well  be  in  Tophet,  and 
be  done  with  them." 

Almina  felt  her  face  flush  and  then  pale  with  amazement 
as  she  heard  the  fresh  young  voice  calmly  make  this  remark. 

"  What  ?"  she  asked,  with  some  sternness. 


30  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  In  Tophet,  I  said,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Do  you  think  that's  pretty  talk  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  returned  the  girl,  easily  ; 
"it's  most  mighty  true  talk,  anyway.  But  there's  Sally.  You 
just  wait  till  you've  seen  Sally." 

As  Temple  ceased  speaking  she  put  on  her  hat  with  an 
entire  absence  of  girlish  manner,  as  if  she  had  been  a  boy. 

"  Come  on,"  she  said.  She  led  the  way  out  of  the  house 
by  a  different  door  from  the  one  by  which  the  two  had  en- 
tered. Almina  hurriedly  put  on  her  bonnet  as  best  she 
could.  She  caught  up  her  satchel  and  her  umbrella,  and 
hastened  after  her  guide.  She  found  Temple  waiting  out- 
side. The  girl  was  looking  at  a  river  which  ran  at  the  very 
end  of  the  sloping  yard.  It  ran  broadly  and  yet  swiftly, 
under  drooping  tree  branches. 

"  That's,  the  Swanannoa,"  said  Temple,  in  a  different 
tone  from  any  her  companion  had  yet  heard  from  her,  and 
w^hich  made  Almina  take  a  step  towards  her  with  a  sudden 
desire  to  touch  the  girl  caressingly.  "  I  wouldn't  give  a 
cent  for  my  life  if  I  had  to  live  it  away  from  a  river  and 
from  those  hills." 

As  she  said  the  last  word  Temple  snatched  off  her  hat 
and  swung  it  towards  the  hills,  towering  everywhere  in  the 
distance ;  some  of  them  so  near,  however,  that  their  out- 
lines showed  with  no  veiling  and  beautifying  haze. 

She  turned  towards  the  woman,  who  was  gazing  steadily 
at  her. 

"  My  father  used  to  say,"  she  began,  "  that  everybody  was 
a  fool  about  at  least  one  thing,  and  ever  so  many  people 
were  fools  about  everything.  He  said  I  was  a  fool  about 
rivers  and  mountains.  What  do  you  think.  Miss  Drowdy  ? 
What  are  you  a  fool  about  ?" 

"  Everything,  I  guess." 

Almina  gave  a  short,  hard  laugh,  that  she  might  not 
sob. 

What  with  her  fatigue  and  her  coming  into  such  a  strange 
country,  and  the  excitement  of  meeting  Roger  Crawford's 


A    HORSEBACK    RIDE  3I 

daughter,  and  finding  her  so  much  different  from  anything 
she  could  possibly  have  imagined,  the  Yankee  woman  found 
it  difficult  not  to  become  hysterical.  She  had  often  said 
that  if  there  was  one  thing  she  hated  it  was  a  ^'  hystericky 
woman." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  everything,"  she  repeated,  with  an  appar- 
ently uncalled-for  emphasis. 

She  glanced  up  to  meet  Temple's  eyes. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  said  that,"  responded  the  girl.  "  But 
if  you  stay  with  me  I  shall  find  out."  She  turned  towards 
the  river  again,  as  she  continued  :  "  I  brought  you  out  at 
this  side  of  the  house  so  that  you  could  see  the  Swanannoa. 
I  didn't  know  but  it  might  sort  of  rest  you  to  look  at  it. 
Running  water  washes  away  hate  and  sorrow  and  all  bad 
things,  you  know." 

"Does  it.?" 

Almina  was  sure  that  she  should  burst  into  a  violent  fit 
of  crying  if  this  thing  continued  another  moment,  and  she 
wished  that  she  could  stop  trying  to  find  some  resemblance 
in  Roger's  daughter  to  Roger  himself. 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  does.  You'll  find  it  out  fast  enough.  Now 
let's  come." 

Temple  turned  and  walked  rapidly  to  the  front  of  the 
house.  The  white  pony  was  standing  there,  its  bridle 
pulled  down  over  its  head  and  twisted  about  the  trunk  of 
a  tree. 

"  Get  right  on,"  said  Temple  ;  "  it's  only  about  four  miles, 
and  I  can  walk  well  enough." 

"  Get  on  where  ?"  asked  Almina,  desperately. 

She  was  thinking  that  she  would  ask  when  the  next  train 
started  for  Massachusetts,  and  that  she  would  take  that 
train. 

"  On  Thimble,  of  course.  He's  most  always  gentle.  And 
I  shall  walk  beside  you." 

"But  I  can't  get  on  him,  and  I  couldn't  ride  him  if  I 
did." 

Almina  spoke  with  such  decision  that  she  seemed  angry. 


32  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

The  girl  faced  about  and  gazed  at  her.  Every  woman, 
old  and  young,  rode  among  the  mountains.  What  did  this 
mean  ? 

"  Anybody  can  ride  Thimble,"  she  said,  with  some  con- 
tempt.    "  He  doesn't  trot  at  all." 

"What  does  he  do,  then?"  was  the  helpless  question. 

"  Why,  he  paces,  and  single-steps,  and  gallops.  He's  a 
regular  angel  of  light  for  a  pony.  I  could  go  through  fire 
and  water  on  him." 

"  Well,  I  can't,  and  that's  the  end  of  that." 

Almina  turned  about  and  looked  for  a  spot  where  she 
might  sit  down.  She  again  thought  of  the  train  for  Massa- 
chusetts, and  calculated  how  long  it  would  take  to  get  back 
home.  She  found  the  stump  of  a  tree,  and  placed  herself 
on  it. 

Temple  stood  a  moment  with  her  hand  resting  on  the 
hogged  mane  of  her  pony.  She  was  gazing  at  the  woman 
sitting  there. 

"  Your  face  looks  somehow  as  if  you  had  some  will-pow- 
er," she  said,  suddenly.  *'  Besides,  there  isn't  a  wagon,  and 
horses  to  go  with  it,  short  of  about  as  far  as  'twill  be  to  get 
home.  The  two  that  belong  here  have  gone  to  Asheville ; 
the  ones  I  could  get,  I  mean.  I'm  going  to  lead  Thimble 
up  to  that  stump." 

Almina  could  never  tell  why  she  rose  and  clambered  on 
to  the  stump  without  another  word  of  remonstrance.  She 
got  herself  into  the  saddle  in  some  way.  The  pony  imme- 
diately walked  across  the  railroad.  Temple  walked  beside 
him.  The  girl  contemplated  her  mounted  companion  with 
unaffected  solicitude.  She  had  hung  the  satchel  on  the 
pommel.  The  umbrella  Almina  still  retained  in  her  own 
hand,  and  with  the  same  hand  she  somehow  managed  to 
clutch  at  something — in  her  confusion  she  hardly  knew 
what. 

"  If  you'd  sit  up  straight  you'd  be  much  more  comforta- 
ble, besides  looking  better,"  remarked  Temple,  with  great 
frankness. 


A    HORSEBACK    RIDE  33 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  'bout  sitting  up  straight,"  was  the  re- 
ply.    "  I  feel 's  if  I  moved  a  grain  I  should  fall  off." 

"  Now,  that's  curious,"  said  Temple,  seriously.  "  I  didn't 
know  any  one  could  feel  that  way  on  a  horse's  back.  It 
must  be  a  dreadful  way  to  feel." 

"  Yes,  'tis  a  dretful  way.     How  fur  is  it .?'' 

"About  four  miles.  When  you  let  the  pony  canter  a 
little  it  '11  be  a  great  relief  to  you." 

Almina  held  fast  to  the  pommel  with  one  hand,  and  the 
horn  with  the  other.  Her  attendant  adroitly  caught  the 
falling  umbrella. 

"I  never  sh'U  canter,"  said  Almina,  feebly. 

"  Why  not  ?"  in  great  astonishment. 

"'Cause  I'm  afraid." 

Miss  Drowdy  did  not  know  herself.  She  had  always  be- 
lieved that  she  was  rather  a  strong-minded  woman.  Now 
she  was  ready  to  sob  violently,  and  to  plead  with  this  dread- 
ful, tyrannical  girl  to  let  her  get  down  to  the  ground. 

"  How  can  you  be  afraid  ?  What  are  you  afraid  of  .'"' 
asked  Temple,  who  seemed  to  be  actually  unable  to  imag- 
ine Almina's  state  of  feeling. 

"I  d'  know,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  can't  tell  whether  it's 
the  boss,  or  what  'tis." 

The  girl  came  nearer  and  put  one  hand  over  the  woman's 
cotton  -  gloved  fingers  that  were  clasped  tightly  over  the 
horn. 

"  I  reckon  you're  plum  tired,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice, 

Almina  could  not  help  being  moved  by  that  voice.  She 
had  never  heard  one  like  it;  it  was  fresh  and  young  and 
clear.  But  it  was  not  those  attributes  that  moved  her. 
Some  one  who  was  more  accustomed  to  the  analysis  of 
what  puzzled  her  had  decided  in  her  own  mind  that,  young 
as  Temple  was,  there  was  a  compelling  power  in  her  voice 
that  made  it  more  effectual  than  any  mere  sweetness. 

"I   guess  I  never  was  much  tireder,"  was  the  answer; 
"  'n'  I'm  all  bewildered.     I  ain't  used  to  travellin',  and  I 
should  think  I'd  been  travellin'  for  a  month." 
3 


34  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

As  Almina  spoke  in  a  desolate,  dry  way,  her  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  ring  upon  the  hand  which  was  still  pressed 
tightly  over  her  own. 

"  Is  that  a  real  di'mond  ?"  she  asked,  presently,  in  some 
awe. 

Temple  raised  her  hand  and  turned  it  so  that  the  jewel 
sent  out  sparks  of  light  in  the  sunshine. 

"  Real  ?"  she  repeated.  Then,  with  a  flush  all  over  her 
face :  "  Yes,  it's  as  real  as  the  magnificent  woman  who 
gave  it  to  me." 

"I  don't  think  I  ever  seen  a  genuine  di'mond  before,"  said 
Almina.    "  They  be  bright,  ain't  they  ?    So  'twas  a  present  ?" 

The  speaker  was  really  interested  in  what  she  was  saying ; 
but  she  was  making  a  great  effort  to  try  to  detach  her 
mind  from  the  fact  that  she  was  on  horseback. 

"  Yes,  'twas  a  present,"  replied  Temple.  "  The  first 
time  I  saw  her  I  happened  to  be  of  service  to  her.  Ill  tell 
you  about  it  some  time  if  you  care  to  have  me.  She  took 
the  ring  from  her  finger  and  gave  it  to  me.  I  told  her  I 
didn't  want  to  be  paid.  But  she  said  she  wasn't  paying 
me  ;  she  only  wanted  me  to  remember  that  I  had  met  her. 
As  if  I  shouldn't  remember !  Miss  Drowdy,"  with  a  sud- 
den change  of  manner,  "  are  you  suffering  a  good  deal  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  be  !"  in  an  ungovernable  outburst,  "  'n'  I'm  goin' 
to  git  off  of  this  pony  this  minute.  I  won't  stand  it,  'n'  that's 
a  fact !     Whoa  !     Stop  !     Whoa  !" 

The  pony  stopped  and  turned  its  head  in  an  inquiring 
surprise. 

Almina  slipped  off  to  the  ground.  She  did  not  find  the 
distance  nearly  so  great  as  she  had  expected.  When  she 
felt  the  firm  earth  under  her  feet  she  began  to  think  once 
more,  as  she  told  Temple,  that  she  had  a  mind  of  her  own, 
and  wasn't  quite  an  idiot.  She  seized  her  umbrella  and 
appeared  ready  to  take  up  a  line  of  march  in  any  direction. 

"  If  anybody  uses  that  pony  it  '11  be  you,"  she  said. 
"  When  I  know  I'm  makin'  a  fool  of  myself,  why  it's  my 
own  fault  if  I  don't  stop  it." 


A    HORSEBACK    RIDE  35 

Temple  took  the  umbrella  from  her  companion  ;  she 
strapped  that  and  the  satchel  on  to  the  saddle.  Then  she 
gave  the  pony  a  little  push  as  she  said :  "  You'd  better  go 
along  home,  Thimble,  before  the  muels  get  all  the  rough- 
ness." 

The  pony  tossed  up  its  head,  looked  around  at  his  mis- 
tress, then  broke  into  a  little  amble  up  the  hill  they  had 
commenced  to  mount. 

"  I  s'pose  he  knows  his  way  home  ?"  interrogatively  re- 
marked Almina. 

The  girl  glanced  at  her  and  then  laughed.  She  made  no 
other  reply. 

The  two  walked  on  side  by  side.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
they  left  the  public  highway  and  entered  upon  a  mountain 
wagon-path  that  curved  this  way  and  that  constantly,  some- 
times rising  steeply,  sometimes  almost  level. 

Temple  walked  with  a  free,  easy  step,  her  movements  un- 
impeded by  the  short  skirt  she  wore.  She  glanced  from 
time  to  time  with  a  kind  of  pitying  inquiry  at  the  woman 
near  her.  She  had  never  seen  such  a  woman  before  —  one 
who  could  neither  ride  horseback  nor  walk  up  mountains. 
That  must  be  a  very  strange  condition  of  life  where  one  did 
not  ride  and  did  not  go  up  mountains ;  a  very  tame  condi- 
tion, indeed,  and  life  could  be  hardly  worth  living. 

"  There  seem  to  be  pretty  views  all  round  here,"  said  Al- 
mina, in  a  breathless  way. 

The  girl  turned  again  and  looked  at  her.  She  smiled,  but 
made  no  attempt  at  a  reply. 

Presently  she  asked  Miss  Drowdy  to  sit  down  on  a  fallen 
tree.  Miss  Drowdy  obeyed.  She  watched  the  girl  step 
here  and  there,  and  finally  pause  before  a  small  tree,  from 
which  she  began  to  cut  a  slender  shoot.  She  handled  her 
jack-knife  with  skill,  and  in  a  few  minutes  she  had  trimmed 
a  staff  which  she  brought  to  Almina. 

"  You  can  use  that,"  she  said.  "  I  reckon  it's  a  flat  coun- 
try where  you  come  from.  It  must  be  dreadful  to  live  in  a 
flat  country.     I  would  rather  die." 


30  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

The  two  started  on  again.  Almina  began  to  feel  that 
there  was  no  end  to  these  mountain  roads,  which  were  only 
tracks  made  by  the  trees  having  been  cut  down  and  carts 
and  horses  passing  round  the  stumps  until  a  sort  of  path  had 
been  made.  Sometimes  they  crossed  acres  of  ground  where 
were  standing  like  ghosts  groves  of  dead  trees  stretching 
naked  branches  out  into  the  air.  The  wind  made  a  strange 
sound  in  these  branches — a  sort  of  scraping,  guttural  noise. 
The  ground  under  the  trees  was  green  with  springing  grain. 

With  every  rod  she  went  Almina  made  a  fresh  vow  that 
she  wouldn't  give  in  ;  that  nothing  should  make  her  give  in. 
Her  back  and  legs  ached,  there  was  a  white  circle  about 
her  mouth,  a  red  spot  on  each  cheek.  She  put  her  stick 
resolutely  and  fiercely  on  the  ground  and  endeavored  to  pull 
herself  along  by  it. 

There  were  to  be  four  miles  of  this.  Well,  she  would  be 
dead  long  before  the  end  of  the  four  miles  was  reached.  It 
would  be  a  good  thins:  to  be  dead.  She  had  been  a  fool  to 
leave  her  home  for  the  sake  of  Roger  Crawford's  daughter. 
She  almost  began  to  doubt  if  this  were  his  daughter. 

She  paused,  leaning  on  her  stick  and  panting.  Her  com- 
panion paused  also,  and  gazed  at  her. 

"  I  s'pose  you  be  really  his  child,  ain't  you  ?"  she  asked 
when  she  could  command  her  voice. 

The  girl's  eyes  opened  still  wider. 

"  His,  you  know,"  went  on  the  woman,  nervously — "Rog- 
er's. It  all  seems  so  strange  ;  'n'  I'm  kinder  turned  round 
in  my  mind.  Bein'  in  them  cars  so  long,  'n'  then  meetin' 
you,  'n'  findin  you  so — so  sort  of  dif 'runt." 

"So  different?" 

"  Yes,  indeed.  I  guess  you'd  think  so  if  you  could  see 
yourself  in  that  red  skirt,  'n'  that  velvet  co't,  'n'  that  hat,  'n' 
them  leggin's,  'n'  that  sharp  thing  on  your  heel  " — here  a 
pause  and  a  quick-drawn  breath  before  Almina  continued  in 
a  sharp  whisper — "  'n'  that  hat  that  ain't  like  any  hat  I  ever 
seen  under  the  canopy.  Folks  wouldn't  think  you  was  a  good 
girl  if  you  wore  that  hat  up  in  Hoyt." 


A    HORSEBACK    RIDE  37 

Temple  put  her  hand  up  to  her  head ;  she  glanced  down 
at  her  feet  and  her  skirt;  then  she  flung  back  her  shoul- 
ders. 

"  But  I'm  not  up  in  Hoyt,"  she  answered. 

The  woman  still  leaned  on  her  stick  ;  her  prim  dress 
looked  very  strange  by  the  side  of  her  guide,  and  somehow 
out  of  place  among  these  trees. 

"And  you  be  really  Roger's  daughter  ?"  repeated  Almina. 
There  was  a  wistful  tremor  all  over  her  tired,  thin  face. 

She  felt  that,  in  some  mysterious  way,  she  was  losing 
something  of  the  fair  romance  that  for  so  many  years  had 
hung  about  the  thought  of  her  lover. 

"Yes,"  said  Temple,  "I'm  his  daughter,  the  only  child  he 
ever  had.  I  don't  see  why  it  seems  such  a  wonderful  thing 
that  he  should  be  my  father.  There  was  nothing  wonderful 
about  him,  anyway.  He  was  just  as  selfish  as  he  could  be. 
I  reckon  that  was  because  he  was  a  man,  wasn't  it?" 

"  Why,  Temple  Crawford  !" 

"  What  ?" 

"  To  speak  so  of  your  father  !" 

Almina's  face  became  quite  firm  again  in  her  reproof. 

"  Well,  that's  the  truth,  anyway,  and  why  shouldn't  I  say 
it?  I  know  he's  my  father.  If  everything  went  exactly  right 
there  never  could  be  any  human  being  more  agreeable  than 
he  was.  But  things  didn't  go  exactly  right  very  often. 
You'd  better  sit  down  again,  Miss  Drowdy.  Here's  another 
fallen  tree.  I  s'pose  I  don't  realize  that  a  person  can  get 
tired  walking  among  these  mountains.  We'd  better  have 
kept  Thimble.  Perhaps  I  can  whistle  him  back.  He'll  be 
sure  to  stop  and  eat  somewhere  on  the  way  home." 

Almina  sat  down.  She  was  now  in  that  state  of  fatigue 
when  she  could  not  hold  herself  steady,  when  she  was  sure 
she  should  never  be  rested  again,  and  never  "see  things 
straight." 

The  girl  turned  her  face  up  the  mountain.  She  thrust 
her  hands  into  the  pockets  of  her  coat,  tipped  back  her 
head,  and  immediately  Almina  heard  a  strong,  penetrating 


38  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

whistle  that  sounded  along  the  solitary  spaces,  carr3dng  far 
up  the  acclivity. 

Temple  wheeled  around,  still  with  her  hands  in  her  pockets. 

"  It  was  wrong  for  us  to  let  him  go,"  she  said  again. 
"  But  he's  almost  sure  to  come  back.  He's  a  good  fellow, 
and  we  understand  each  other."  She  sprang  forward. 
"Why,  Miss  Drowdy,  are  you  as  tired  as  that  .^" 

She  knelt  down  by  the  woman's  side  and  put  her  arms 
about  her.  Almina  smiled  feebly  and  made  a  great  effort. 
She  felt  herself  in  a  horrible  nightmare  from  which  she  could 
not  escape.     And  Massachusetts  so  far  away ! 

"  I'm  kinder  used  up,"  she  said,  faintly. 

In  spite  of  herself  she  let  her  head  drop  on  the  young 
shoulder  near  her.  But  she  made  a  fierce  effort  to  retain 
her  consciousness.  She  had  a  feeling  that  she  should  never 
be  able  to  respect  herself  again  if  she  should  faint  or  do  any- 
thing like  that.     "  Almina  Drow^dy  faint !" 

The  sting  of  this  fear  roused  her  a  little.  But  she  could 
not  yet  lift  her  head  from  the  shoulder  which  was  held  per- 
fectly still. 

After  a  few  moments  she  was  able  to  say  in  a  half- 
whisper  : 

"  You  see,  I  ain't  slep',  'n'  I'  ain't  et ;  'n'  I  guess  I  was 
some  excited." 

After  a  pause  she  added,  with  a  slight  and  whimsical  smile 
at  her  own  folly  : 

"  They  used  to  call  me  nervous  when  I  was  a  girl ;  mebby 
I  ain't  outgrown  it." 

Here  she  tried  to  raise  her  head,  but  a  firm  hand  prevent- 
ed her.     Temple  did  not  speak  immediately. 

She  looked  strong  and  dominant  as  she  knelt  there  on  one 
knee  by  her  guest. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  didn't  realize  that  folks  could  get  so  tired," 
she  said  at  last,  as  if  she  were  making  an  apology.  "Don't 
move  yet.  I  wish  somebody  would  come  along  in  a  wagon. 
But  it  isn't  in  the  least  likely.  There !  Don't  you  hear  a 
horse's  step  ?     No }     But  I   do ;  and  it's  Thimble's  step. 


A    HORSEBACK    RIDE  39 

light  and  quick.    There  he  is  !    Dear  old  fellow  !     Sweetest 
fellow  in  the  world  !     Come  to  your  own  true-love  !" 

As  she  made  these  exclamations  Temple  did  not  rise. 
She  still  continued  to  support  Almina.  But  she  extended  one 
hand.  The  pony  paused  a  few  paces  away,  gazing  at  the 
group  with  neck  raised  and  ears  pointed  sharply  forward. 
After  a  brief  examination  he  came  nearer  and  fumbled  with 
his  lips  upon  Temple's  outstretched  hand. 

Almina's  umbrella  and  satchel  were  still  strapped  to  the 
saddle.     The  pony's  mouth  was  green. 

"You've  been  at  somebody's  new  wheat,"  cried  his  mis- 
tress. 

"You  must  mount  again,  now,"  she  said,  turning  to  her 
companion.  "You  never  can  walk  the  two  miles  more  ;  and 
it's  up  the  mountain,  too." 

Almina  did  not  reply.  She  rose,  much  as  if  she  were 
about  to  have  a  tooth  extracted.  She  had  made  up  her 
mind.  And  she  was  ashamed  of  the  weakness  she  had  dis- 
played.    She  could  not  walk.     Therefore  she  must  ride. 

The  pony  was  brought  up  accurately  alongside  of  the  tree. 
Again  Almina  got  into  the  saddle,  and  again  she  did  not 
know  how  she  did  it. 

The  girl  walked  close  by  the  pony.  So  they  started. 
Sometimes  the  path  was  very  steep.  Once,  in  a  depression, 
they  crossed  a  hurrying  stream  of  water  which  Temple  spoke 
of  as  "  the  branch."  She  walked  calmly  through  this  water, 
which  was  up  to  the  tops  of  her  shabby  congress  boots. 

"Now  your  feet  are  wet,"  exclaimed  Almina,  " 'n'  you'll 
ketch  cold." 

"  No,  I  sha'n't.     I  don't  think  I  ever  had  a  cold  in  my  life." 

On  they  \vent.  Once  the  woman  ventured  to  say  tenta- 
tively that  she  supposed  they  should  get  there  some  time. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  was  the  cheerful  reply. 

Going  at  a  foot  pace  it  takes  a  good  while  to  travel  near- 
ly four  miles  along  the  side  of  a  mountain.  And  often  these 
travellers  found  that  a  tree  had  fallen  across  the  road  and 
a  circuit  had  to  be  made. 


40  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Almina  was  so  far  roused  that  she  asked  why  the  folks 
didn't  take  away  those  trees,  and  the  reply  was  : 

"  They're  aiming  to." 

A  clear,  ringing  bark  was  heard  a  short  distance  away 
where  the  light  was  greater,  as  if  there  were  an  opening. 

"  That's  Little  Bull,"  said  Temple ;  he's  heard  us." 

More  barking  in  different  keys. 

"  They've  all  heard  us,"  continued  Temple,  "  and  they're 
coming  to  meet  us.  I'm  glad  you're  not  afraid  of  dogs, 
because  you'd  have  a  truly  devilish  time  here  if  you  were." 

She  spoke  quite  as  if  devilish  were  the  word  she  want- 
ed, and  as  if  she  were  not  afraid  to  use  it. 

One  more  slight  turn  in  the  road. 

"  There's  the  place,"  said  the  girl,  "  and  here  are  the 
dogs.  Brace  up,  for  they'll  go  all  over  us.  You'll  think 
you're  going  to  be  eaten  up.     But  you'll  come  out  alive." 


Ill 

AN   INTERRUPTED   MEAL 

A  TROOP  of  five  dogs  rushed  pell-mell,  with  open  throats, 
down  a  clear  slope  towards  the  two  figures  that  had  just 
left  the  woods.  They  came  from  a  building  standing  half 
way  up  the  space,  or  rather  from  a  group  of  buildings. 
One  of  these  was  a  comparatively  large  log-house ;  some- 
what in  its  rear  was  a  smaller  one. 

From  the  open  door  of  this  latter  dwelling  there  stepped 
a  tall  woman.  She  put  one  hand  to  her  hip  and  the  other 
above  her  eyes.  She  was  easily  erect,  with  head  thrown 
back.  She  was  not  large  because  she  was  fat,  but  by  rea- 
son of  a  stalwart,  strong  frame.  She  did  not  know  in  the 
least  what  a  magnificent  pose  she  took.  Almina  Drowdy, 
looking  up  with  weary  eyes,  had  only  a  dim  sense  of  some- 
thing unusual.  She  was  not  conscious  of  much  save  the 
hope  and  belief  that  she  was  nearing  a  place  where  she 
could  get  off  that  little  horse,  shut  herself  up  in  a  room, 
take  off  her  gown  and  lie  down.  She  had  not  taken  off  her 
gown  since  she  left  Hoyt.  She  had  a  conviction  that  if  she 
could  divest  herself  of  that  garment  her  mind  would  imme- 
diately begin  to  clear. 

The  dogs  leaped  upon  Temple.  They  had  the  appear- 
ance of  devouring  her.  They  drew  back  and  crouched  down 
on  their  front  paws,  barking  furiously.  They  sprang  into 
the  air,  whining  sharply.  They  smelled  exhaustively  at  Al- 
mina's  skirts. 

"  Don't  any  of  um  bite  ?"  she  asked,  feebly. 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  was  the  reply;  "but  they  generally 
are  sure  to  bite  the  right  person." 


42  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Almina  tried  to  smile  as  she  expressed  the  hope  that  she 
was  not  tlie  right  person. 

"  Oh,  you're  safe  enough,"  said  Temple. 

In  a  moment  more  they  had  come  within  a  few  yards  of 
the  woman.  She  advanced  a  step,  now,  with  a  hand  on 
each  hip. 

Miss  Drowdy's  dazed  eyes  saw  that  she  was  a  "yellow 
woman." 

"  It's  Sally,"  said  Temple,  by  way  of  introduction. 

Sally  now  threw  up  one  hand  with  an  unconsciously 
dramatic  movement.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  thin,  el- 
derly face  from  which  nearly  every  vestige  of  life  and  ex- 
pression had  been  squeezed  by  fatigue  and  excitement. 

Sally  made  a  stride  forward. 

"  Master  King !"  she  exclaimed.  She  extended  her 
arms,  took  Almina  from  the  saddle,  and  carried  her  into  the 
house. 

Temple  lingered  a  moment  to  get  the  satchel  and  the 
umbrella ;  then  she  hastily  unbuckled  the  girths  and  the 
throat-lash,  and  slipped  off  saddle  and  bridle,  dropping  them 
on  the  floor  at  the  end  of  the  wide  stoop  that  ran  along  in 
front  of  the  house. 

The  pony  gave  a  little  snort  and  cantered  away  at  his  own 
will. 

The  girl  stood  an  instant  on  the  porch,  and  looked  off  to 
Mt.  Pisgah  in  the  distance  in  front  and  at  her  right ;  her 
glance  swept  over  the  different  peaks,  blue  or  black.  She 
turned  and  gazed  at  Busbee  Mountain,  which  was  so  close 
that  it  almost  seemed  to  lean  forward  towards  her ;  it  re- 
vealed the  seams  and  gullies  on  its  surface.  There  were 
hills  and  mountains  everywhere  ;  there  were  no  level  spaces. 
Sometimes  there  were  hollows,  and  these  hollows  were  usually 
green  with  springing  grain. 

The  sun  was  shining  straight  down  into  Temple's  face, 
for  she  had  thrown  off  her  hat. 

She  did  not  seem  to  mind  the  sun. 

As  she  looked  abroad  she  suddenly  pressed  the  palms  of 


AN    INTERRUPTED    MEAL  43 

her  hands  tightly  together  and  extended  them,  her  face  ra- 
diant. 

Very  soon  she  turned  and  went  into  the  house.  This 
house  was  of  logs,  and  it  was  all  ground-floor. 

The  girl  walked  through  three  rooms  until  she  came  to  the 
door  of  the  fourth.     This  she  had  selected  for  her  visitor. 

Almina  was  lying  on  the  gay-covered  bed  in  this  apart- 
ment. There  was  a  patch  of  sunlight  from  the  one  small 
window,  and  this  patch  was  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

"  The  idea !"  cried  Almina,  as  soon  as  she  saw  the  girl. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Temple. 

"  Why,  didn't  you  see  that  woman  pick  me  up  's  if  I'd 
been  an  infant  babe  .''  Yes,  an  infant  babe.  And  she  put 
me  on  this  bed,  'n'  she  wanted  to  undress  me.  The  idea ! 
I  jest  wish  the  folks  in  Hoyt  could  have  seen  me.  But  it's 
jest  as  well  they  didn't.     Who  is  that  woman,  anyway  ?" 

The  speaker  rose  on  her  elbow  and  looked  with  blinking 
eyes  at  her  companion. 

"  Why,  that's  Sally,"  was  the  answer. 

"  But  she's  a — well,  she's  a  negro,  a  colored  person,  ain't 
she  ?"  with  some  hesitation. 

Miss  Drowdy  did  not  know  exactly  how  these  people 
were  mentioned  in  the  South. 

"  She's  not  exactly  a  negro,"  replied  Temple.  "  She's 
what  we  call  a  bright  woman  here." 

"  A  bright  woman  ?" 

Almina  was  helplessly  confused  before  such  a  remark  as 
this. 

"  Yes,  bright-colored,  you  know.  An  octoroon,  or  quad- 
roon, or  something  like  that." 

"Oh." 

The  Yankee  stranger  closed  her  eyes  for  a  moment. 

Temple  searched  about  and  found  a  shawl,  which  she 
pinned  up  at  the  curtainless  window  so  that  the  light  should 
not  be  so  glaring.  It  had  never  occurred  to  her  before  that 
there  were  no  curtains  anywhere  in  the  house. 

By  a  great  effort  Almina  kept  her  smarting  eyes  shut. 


44 


AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 


She  heard  the  girl  moving  quietly  about  the  room.  She  felt 
the  blanket  which  Sally  had  thrown  over  her  drawn  up 
more  about  her  shoulders.  She  continued  thinking  about 
Sally.  It  was  very  curious  that  she  had  been  conscious  of 
a  sensation  of  relief  and  comfort  the  moment  the  "  bright 
woman  "  had  lifted  her  from  the  pony.  It  was  true  that 
Sally  had  smelled  strongly  of  tobacco,  and  of  something  in- 
definable which  might  be  what  Almina  in  a  general  way 
called  "  dirt."  And  she  was  a  colored  person.  She  had 
heard  Sally  whisper, 

"  Pore  critter,  yo'  !  Pore  critter  !"  as  she  bore  her  bur- 
den into  the  bedroom. 

And  somehow  it  had  been  a  comfort  at  that  time  to  be 
called  a  pore  critter. 

Sally  had  told  her  that  she  would  bring  some  tea  and 
toast  "  right  soon."  This  she  said  as  she  laid  Miss  Drowdy 
on  the  bed. 

"  Oh,  don't !  don't !"  Almina  had  cried.  "  Le'  me  be, 
now !  Only  jest  le'  me  lay  here  and  sense  that  I  ain't  in 
the  cars.     I  want  to  sense  that  I  ain't  in  the  cars." 

"  Oh,  laws  !"  had  been  the  response.  "  I'll  let  yo'  be  fas' 
'nough.  Stay  hyar  a  week  ef  yo'  wan'  to.  But  ain't  yo' 
hongry  ?" 

"  No,  no.  I  ain't  got  over  that  cawfy  I  had  to  the  deepo. 
I  d'  know  when  I  shall  git  over  that  cawfy.  It  Stan's  by  's 
if  I'd  et  a  biled  dinner.     I  jest  want  to  be  let  alone." 

When  Temple  had  shut  out  the  sun  and  had  covered  her 
guest  she  stood  hesitating ;  but  she  soon  left  the  room. 
She  went  out  of  the  house  and  across  a  space  of  a  few 
yards  to  the  small  log-house  which  was  Sally's  kitchen  and 
sleeping  and  smoking  place. 

It  was  now  a  smoking-place.  Sally  was  sitting  on  her  heels 
in  front  of  an  open  fire.  She  had  just  picked  up  a  live  coal 
with  her  bare  fingers,  and  was  putting  it  skilfully  on  top  of  the 
tobacco  in  her  pipe,  sucking  hard  at  the  stem  as  she  did  so. 

She  flirted  her  fingers  in  the  air,  looked  at  the  figure  in 
the  always-open  doorway,  and  gave  a  short  laugh.     Then 


_^  AN    INTERRUPTED    MEAL  45 

she  bent  forward  and  stirred  something  that  was  in  a  skillet 
that  stood  over  a  heap  of  coals  drawn  out  on  the  stones  of 
the  hearth. 

Having  stirred  this  she  looked  once  more  at  Temple, 
laughed  again,  and  now  exclaimed  : 

"  Laws-a-mercy  me  !  Oh,  law  me  !"  As  Temple  made 
no  response  to  these  exclamations  Sally  asked  : 

"  Is  she  gwine  ter  stay  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.     I  expect  so." 

Sally  pulled  strongly  and  thoughtfully  on  her  pipe.  She 
turned  her  face  so  that  she  might  gaze  at  her  companion 
more  conveniently. 

"  She  seems  sorter  delikit,"  she  said  at  last,  but  not  as  if 
that  were  what  she  had  been  thinking  of  saying. 

"  I  don't  think  she's  delicate  at  all,"  said  Temple,  deci- 
sively. 

"Oh." 

A  short  silence,  broken  by  Sally,  who  said  : 

"She  ain't  what  yo'  might  call  much  of  er  horsebacker, 
is  she,  now  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Temple,  with  such  solemnity  that  Sally  re- 
strained her  laugh. 

She  rose  to  her  feet.  She  threw  back  her  chest  and  put 
her  hands  on  her  hips,  clinching  the  pipe  tightly  between 
her  white,  strong  teeth. 

The  young  girl  was  somewhat  more  than  the  average 
height  of  women,  but  Sally  looked  down  upon  her. 

The  colored  woman  now  gazed  at  her  companion  inquir- 
ingly, something  as  an  animal  might  gaze,  with  a  questioning 
that  was  not  acute  or  well  discriminated,  but  that  was  strong. 

Temple  met  the  glance  of  the  yellowish,  dusky  eyes. 
She  always  was  conscious  of  a  peculiar  sensation  when  she 
looked  into  Sally's  eyes.  It  was  as  if  she  had  a  glimpse  of 
wild,  uncivilized  days,  of  furious  loves  and  hates,  of  some 
tiger  life  whose  passions  were  like  fire,  tempest  fury,  and 
with  the  curious,  undisciplined,  unreliable  warmth  of  heart 
and  nature  which  often  goes  with  such  a  make-up. 


46  ■       AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

For  Sally's  unrestrained  experiences  were  mostly  behind 
her.  She  was  not  a  young  woman.  To  Temple  she  seemed 
old.  She  was,  perhaps,  forty.  She  was  entirely  unedu- 
cated ;  she  could  not  read  nor  write.  But  she  had  lived 
much  with  educated  people,  and  she  did  not  use  the  real 
negro  dialect.  She  had  times  of  trying  not  to  use  it.  But 
she  was  very  far  from  talking  English. 

She  spoke  in  a  sort  of  throaty  voice  that  may  almost  be 
said  to  belong  to  her  race,  and  it  had  in  a  marked  degree 
the  indescribable,  thick,  honey  sweetness  and  mellowness 
of  the  African  tone.  The  white  face  and  the  dark,  marked- 
featured  face  were  turned  towards  each  other  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  Wull,  honey,"  said  Sally,  at  last,  ''  be  yo'  glad  or  be  yo' 
sorry .?" 

Temple  took  a  few  steps  about  the  room.  She  had 
thrust  her  hands  into  her  coat-pockets.  Her  cropped  head 
was  bent.  She  was  used  to  talking  confidentially,  in  a 
measure,  with  Sally. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said  at  last.  "I  had  to  send  for 
her,  because  of  father.  But  I  think,"  lifting  her  head,  "we 
were  getting  along  mighty  well  as  things  were.  I  reckon," 
with  a  slight  laugh,  "  that  she's  going  to  be  the  thing  they 
call  a  chaperon." 

"What's  that.?" 

"  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you  so  you'll  know.  It's  something  that 
young  girls  need  to  keep  them  from  going  straight  to  de- 
struction." 

Here  Temple  burst  into  a  louder  laugh. 

Sally  took  her  pipe  from  her  mouth  and  smiled  broadly. 

"  Laws,  Miss  Temple,  you  ain't  gwine  ter  distruction  ;  no 
sich  er  thing.  An'  if  yo'  war,  ain't  I  hyar,  I  sh'd  like  to 
know  ?  I  swar  I'd  holp  you  frum  gwine.  Yo'  carn't  git 
nowhars  nigh  distruction  while  Sally's  roun'.  No,  yo'  carn't 
do  hit." 

Temple  smiled  intimately  and  gratefully  at  her  com- 
panion. 


AN    INTERRUPTED    MEAL  47 

"  Sometimes,"  she  said,  "  I  have  an  idea  that  it  must  be 
great  fun  to  go  to  destruction  ;  just  while  you're  going,  you 
know.  But  when  you  really  get  there,  I  suppose  the  fun 
stops." 

"  Oh,  ye^"  said  Sally,  as  one  who  knew,  "  it  stops  right 
thar.  But  what  makes  yo'  talk  that-a-way,  chile  ?  Thar 
ain't  no  'casion.  Yo'  jes'  as  safe  hyar's  when  your  par 
was  hyar.     Eggsac'ly." 

Sally  did  not  put  her  pipe  back  in  her  mouth.  She  held 
it  in  her  hand.  She  did  not  look  at  the  girl,  but  gazed  into 
the  fire  as  she  asked  :  „ 

"  Reckon  she'll  try  ter  boss  us  roun'  any?" 
Temple  seemed  to  think  the  question  was  a  joke,  for  she 
laughed  and  made  no  attempt  at  replying. 

"What  '11  Mrs.  Ammidown  think?"  now  asked  Sally. 
She  looked  suddenly  at  the  girl  as  she  put  this  question. 

But  Temple  did  not  answer  this  question  either.  She 
walked  up  to  the  fireplace,  carefully  pushed  a  log  back 
with  the  toe  of  her  wet  boot,  then  stooped  to  peer  into  the 
skillet. 

As  she  lifted  her  head  she  asked : 
"  Chicken  ?" 

"  No,  rabbit.  Bart,  he  foun'  a  couple  in  them  snares," 
was  the  answer. 

Temple  walked  to  the  door.  She  stepped  without, 
paused,  and  glanced  back  to  say,  impressively  : 
"Remember,  Sally,  lots  of  sweet  'tater." 
Temple  sauntered  back  to  her  own  house.  The  largest 
of  the  dogs  that  had  come  to  meet  her  rose  from  a  recum- 
bent position  near  Sally's  door-step  and  accompanied  his 
mistress.  He  was  a  white  Newfoundland — white,  save  for 
one  black  ear,  and  a  splotch  of  black  down  his  neck  on  the 
same  side.  That  is,  he  would  have  been  white  if  he  had 
ever  been  clean.  There  were  moments  in  his  life  when, 
having  just  come  up  from  a  prolonged  swim  in  the  French 
Broad,  Yucatan  was  of  a  beautiful  fluffy  white.  But  those 
moments  were  rare  and  very  brief.     He  was  usually  tinged 


48  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

with  the  yellow  soil  of  the  roads,  and  dingy  with  the  dark 
loam  of  the  cultivated  places  of  the  farms.  Still,  clean  or 
dingy,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  look  in  this  dog's  face  and 
meet  the  glance  of  his  well-opened  brown  eyes.  Yucatan 
had  a  great  deal  of  dignity ;  so  much,  in  fact,  that  it  was 
not  on  first  acquaintance  usually  known  that  he  had  a 
great  love  of  fun  also. 

Having  reached  the  middle  room,  where  the  largest  fire- 
place was.  Temple  picked  up  a  couple  of  "cord -wood" 
sticks  that  were  lying  on  the  hearth  and  flung  them  on  the 
fire.  She  lifted  them  with  tolerable  ease,  but  they  were  too 
heavy  for  her  to  put  down  as  gradually  as  she  ought  to 
have  done.  The  coals  flew  out  over  the  uncarpeted,  untidy 
floor.  This  floor  showed  plainly  that  this  was  not  the  first 
time  that  coals  had  done  thus.  Temple  seized  a  broom 
from  a  corner  and  swept  the  fiery  pieces  back  again.  Then 
she  drew  up  a  chair,  and,  after  considerable  pulling  and 
coaxing,  she  succeeded  in  removing  her  sodden  shoes.  The 
feet  that  she  thrust  out  towards  the  huge  fire  were  covered 
with  black  stockings.  It  is  dreadful  to  relate  that  these 
stockings  had  various  holes  in  them  through  which  the 
white  flesh  showed  plainly. 

Yucatan  established  himself  gravely  on  his  haunches  at 
the  other  side  of  the  hearth  from  his  mistress.  He  also 
gazed  contemplatively  at  the  blaze.  He  did  not  reveal  in 
the  least  by  his  manner  that  he  had  seen  the  holes  in  those 
stockings.  And  yet  it  was  plainly  evident  that  he  must 
have  seen  them. 

Occasionally  the  dog  turned  his  eyes  slowly  upon  his 
companion. 

Temple's  head  was  leaned  against  the  back  of  her  chair, 
which  was  a  very  comfortable  rattan  lounging-chair.  In- 
deed, the  chairs  and  the  beds  in  this  log- house  were  the 
chairs  and  beds  of  an  extreme  civilization.  Roger  Craw- 
ford had  not  intended  to  be  uncomfortable. 

The  girl  had  her  hands  clasped  on  top  of  her  head. 
Her  wet  stockings  began  to  steam  in  the  heat. 


AN    INTERRUPTED    MEAL  49 

Yucatan  stretched  forward  and  sniffed  at  the  feet. 
Then  he  looked  at  the  owner  of  them. 

Temple  smiled  in  lazy  content.  She  held  out  her  hand, 
and  the  dog  came  and  sat  down  close  to  her,  leaning  his 
big  head  on  her  lap. 

"  You  needn't  pretend  to  be  shocked  at  my  stockings, 
old  fellow,"  said  the  girl ;  "  you  are  a  sight  to  behold  your- 
self. I  can  see  some  of  the  loam  from  the  Bucknor  farm  on 
your  flanks ;  there's  soil  from  the  north  side  of  Busbee  on 
your  chest ;  and  the  State  road  is  daubed  all  over  you. 
When  were  you  on  the  State  road  last,  dear  one  ?" 

Yucatan  thumped  the  floor  slowly  with  his  enormous 
tail.     But  he  made  no  other  reply. 

Temple  gazed  with  indolent  intentness  down  at  the  face 
on  her  knee. 

"  I  do  believe,"  she  exclaimed,  "  that  there's  a  place  be- 
tween your  eyes  that  is  clean  enough  to  kiss." 

She  bent  down  and  kissed  the  place.  The  tail  thumped 
again,  more  decidedly  than  before. 

Temple  resumed  her  position  with  her  head  against  the 
chair-back.  She  became  very  quiet.  After  a  few  moments 
the  dog  settled  down  on  the  floor  with  his  nose  between 
his  paws.  There  was  no  sound  in  the  room  save  the  occa- 
sional falling  of  an  ember  in  the  fire. 

Sometimes  one  of  these  burning  embers  would  roll  out 
on  the  hearth  ;  but  fortunately  none  rolled  as  far  as  the 
planking. 

Temple  was  fast  asleep.  Of  course  the  door  was  open ; 
it  was  rarely  closed  in  the  daytime.  But  the  fire  was  so 
large,  and  the  girl  was  so  thoroughly  used  to  having  a  room 
this  way  that  she  did  not  feel  cold. 

After  an  hour  Sally  appeared  in  the  doorway.  She  stood 
looking  in.  Her  figure  had  a  distant  background  of  moun- 
tains.    This  background  seemed  fitting. 

She  made  no  noise,  and  presently  disappeared. 

Yucatan  had  raised  his  head  and  gazed  at  her,  but  had 
put  it  down  again,  not  thinking  it  necessary  to  move. 


50  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Another  hour  passed,  and  the  girl  still  slept.  She  had 
been  restless  the  night  before,  for  she  had  been  secretly  ex- 
cited about  Miss  Drowdy's  coming.  She  had  resented  be- 
ing commanded  to  invite  her.  Things  were  going  on  ex- 
cellently exactly  as  they  were.  Temple  was  out  of  doors 
all  day,  either  on  foot  or  on  horseback,  and  that  suited  her. 
Sometimes  she  put  on  her  best  frock,  and,  instead  of  the 
slouch  hat,  a  little  stiff  turban  with  a  feather  in  it,  and,  hav- 
ing previously  brushed  Thimble  and  tied  a  ribbon  to  his 
bridle  between  his  ears,  she  rode  him  into  Asheville.  She 
went  to  the  stores  and  bought  candies  and  writing-paper. 
Candies  to  eat,  and  paper  upon  which  to  write  wild  poems 
and  rhapsodies — things  as  wild  as,  and  more  incoherent 
than,  the  scenes  among  which  the  girl  lived. 

She  knew  very  well  that  these  things  were  not  worth  any- 
thing at  all  as  literature. 

But  she  said  to  herself  that,  absolutely,  she  could  not 
live  if  she  did  not  at  least  try  to  express  something  of  the 
ineffable  glory  that  was  in  a  mere  life  among  these  moun- 
tains. Just  life  and  mountains  and  rivers.  Why  should 
any  one  ask  for  anything  else  ? 

That  woman  from  Massachusetts  had  said  that  there 
seemed  to  be  "pretty  views  about  here." 

Temple  thought  that  she  herself  had  behaved  very  well 
indeed  when  she  refrained  from  an  outburst  of  contemptu- 
ous fury  as  she  heard  those  words. 

But  somehow,  in  spite  of  all,  the  girl  had  no  contempt  for 
the  woman  who  had  said  that,  and  who  could  not  ride 
horseback.  She  was  aware  that  not  much  could  be  ex- 
pected from  one  who  could  not  ride  and  who  had  not  lived 
among  mountains.  Great  allowances  should  be  made  for 
such  people.  Temple  was  fully  resolved  to  make  those 
allowances.  And  she  did  not  dislike  this  new-comer,  who 
had  evidently  had  so  few  advantages. 

The  girl  supposed  that  Miss  Drowdy  must  at  one  time  in 
her  life,  years  ago,  have  been  in  love  with  her  father,  Roger 
Crawford.     It  must  be  so  ;  although  it  seemed  quite  impos- 


AN    INTERRUPTED    MEAL  51 

sible  when  you  came  to  think  of  it.  But  then  people's 
fathers,  when  you  came  to  think  of  that,  also,  had  been 
young,  and  had  been  lovers. 

Temple,  in  the  time  which  had  elapsed  between  writing 
to  Miss  Drowdy  and  that  lady's  arrival,  had  had  long  and 
serious  seasons  of  thinking  of  her  father.  She  did  not  care 
very  much  for  him,  and  she  was  quite  positive  that  he  did 
not  care  very  much  for  her.  Still,  she  felt  for  him  some  of 
the  attachment  of  custom  and  habitual  companionship. 

Now,  as  she  sat  in  the  chair  at  the  fire,  before  she  went 
to  sleep,  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  next  moment  he  would 
enter  at  the  open  door  and  come  forward — a  tall,  thin  man, 
moving  gracefully,  always  having  his  grizzled  beard  and 
hair  trimmed  carefully ;  though  he  was  not  very  particular 
about  his  dress,  generally  lounging  about  in  a  somewhat 
rubbed  velvet  coat.  His  pointed  beard  and  long  mustache, 
the  latter  scrupulously  and  persistently  pulled  out  and 
turned  up  at  the  ends,  made  a  rather  picturesque  effect 
under  a  mountaineer's  hat.  Mr.  Crawford  had  not  yet 
given  up  glancing  frequently  at  mirrors,  though  he  lived  on 
a  mountain  side  in  Limestone  Township,  North  Carolina. 
He  still  had  handsome  teeth,  which  gleamed  pleasantly 
under  his  mustache  when  he  smiled. 

Sometimes,  when  looking  at  him,  Temple  used  to  put  the 
inquiry  to  her  own  mind  : 

"  I  wonder  if  he  is  the  kind  of  man  whom  women  would 
love  ?" 

When  Mr.  Crawford  had  gone  to  Manitoba  for  his  health, 
and  when  the  letter  had  come  about  Almina  K.  Drowdy, 
then  Temple  had  said  to  herself: 

"  There's  one  of  the  women  who  loved  him." 

And  she  had  been  very  curious.  She  supposed  it  was 
Yankee  dialect  which  Miss  Drowdy  spoke.  Her  father  did 
not  use  dialect  of  any  kind. 

Of  her  mother  the  girl  remembered  a  few  things  which 
made  the  memory  something  always  vivid  and  powerful. 

Mrs.  Crawford  had  been  a  Louisiana  woman.     Sally,  who 


52  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

had  been  her  servant  since  both  were  children,  always  as- 
serted that  her  mistress  had  married  Mr.  Crawford  "fur 
lurv."  She  had  remarked  at  the  same  time  that,  in  her 
estimation,  love  was  the  last  reason  on  the  "  yarth "  for 
marrying. 

In  answer  to  Temple's  insistent  questions  as  to  why  she 
thought  thus,  the  yellow  woman  had  said  that  "  a  pusson 
war  jes'  likely's  not  ter  lurv  ten  or  twenty  times  ;  but  nat- 
cherly  a  pusson  couldn't  expect  ter  marry  that  away." 

And  Temple  had  fully  agreed  with  the  latter  part  of  this 
assertion. 

From  dark  hints  and  darker  looks  the  yellow  woman  had 
given  the  girl  to  understand  that  love  was  a  passion  of  a 
short  and  tempestuous  life,  and  likely  to  recur  again  and 
again. 

Therefore  the  selection  of  a  husband  could  have  nothing 
to  do  with  love. 

To  Temple  Crawford  the  selection  of  a  husband  had  not 
yet  become  of  any  interest.  Her  life  was  full.  Had  she 
not  her  horse,  her  dogs,  and  the  whole  world  of  mountain, 
tree,  and  rushing  river  ? 

In  her  momentary  snatches  of  thought  on  this  subject 
Temple  acknowledged  to  herself  that  it  must  be  that  the 
ordinary  woman  was  much  absorbed  in  the  thought  of  a 
husband.  That  was  surely  the  way  of  the  ordinary  woman. 
But  then  that  kind  of  feminine  human  being  was  so  very — 
well,  so  excessively  ordinary  that  she  could  not  continue  to 
think  of  her. 

The  second  time  that  Sally  appeared  at  the  door  of  the 
cabin  she  walked  in  and  began  to  pile  up  the  coals  with  the 
tongs.  As  she  was  lifting  a  log  to  put  on  the  fire  Temple 
moved,  opened  her  eyes,  then  yawned  and  stretched  her 
arms  high  over  her  head. 

"Oh,  how  hungry  I  am!"  she  exclaimed.  "Oceans  of 
sweet  'taters,  Sally  ?" 

"  Oceans,"  answered  Sally. 

"  Stewed  in  brown  sugar  and  butter,  Sally  ?" 


AN    INTERRUPTED    MEAL 


53 


"  Shore,  dey  be,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Then  let's  eat.     Put  the  dinner  right  on  the  table." 

Temple  rose.  Yucatan  also  rose.  He  sniffed  in  the  air 
towards  the  yellow  woman  who  had  brought  in  with  her  an 
aroma  of  rabbit  and  other  good  things. 

But  Sally  made  no  immediate  movement  to  go. 

"  Youse  done  forgot  one  thing,"  she  said. 

Temple  looked  about  the  room. 

"  De  shapron  pusson  what's  come  fum  de  Norf,"  said 
Sally,  in  her  most  throaty  voice,  "  ter  keep  yo'  from  destruc- 
tion."    Then  she  giggled  deep  down  in  her  chest. 

Temple  threw  out  her  hand  in  a  gesture  she  had  uncon- 
sciously learned  from  her  companion.  A  look  of  dismay 
passed  over  her  face. 

"  So  I  had,"  she  cried.     ''  She  must  be  starved." 

The  girl  darted  out  of  the  room.  Sally  walked  deliber- 
ately into  the  apartment  at  the  right  where  a  table  stood 
with  some  plates,  tumblers,  and  knives  and  forks  on  it.  She 
moved  these  tumblers  and  plates  about  in  a  casual  manner. 
It  was  not  worth  while  to  hurry,  save  upon  rare  occasions, 
and  on  those  occasions  this  woman  could  work  like  a  lion — 
supposing  lions  were  given  to  working. 

This  dining-room  seemed  also  to  be  a  little  log  cabin  in 
itself.  It  had  its  own  outer  door,  open  of  course ;  its  own 
fireplace,  where  was  a  pile  of  ashes,  from  which  thin  streams 
of  smoke  went  up  into  the  chimney. 

Temple  paused  outside  of  Miss  Drowdy's  door. 

It  was  now  almost  five  hours  since  Almina  had  stepped 
from  the  cars  at  the  junction. 

She  had  taken  off  her  gown  the  moment  she  had  been  left 
alone  in  her  room.  Let  it  be  said  in  parenthesis  that  this 
room  also  had  its  outside  door,  and  its  own  chimney  and 
hearth.  Almina  had  wrapped  a  shawl  about  her,  shut  her 
outside  door,  and  carefully  pulled  an  old  trunk  against  it,  not 
finding  any  lock.  The  other  door  she  had  let  remain  simply 
closed. 

She  had  looked  at  herself  in   the  glass ;    had  declared 


54  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

forcibly  that  she  was  a  "  reg'lar  fright,"  and  had  then  laid 
herself  down  again  on  the  bed,  and  drawn  quilt  and  blanket 
up  over  her  head,  and  down  to  her  nose.  She  had  an- 
nounced to  herself  that  she  was  "jest  as  wide-awake  as  a 
fish,"  and  then  immediately  she  had  fallen  into  a  deep 
sleep. 

She  was  in  this  sleep  when  she  heard  a  knock  on  the 
inner  door,  and  instantly  began  to  dream  that  it  was  Freddy 
who  had  grown  tall  enough  to  knock. 

But  on  the  second  sound  she  started  up  with  an  infini- 
tesimal kind  of  a  scream,  followed  by  the  cry,  "  Where  be  I .''" 
as  she  looked  frantically  round  upon  the  log-walls,  where  the 
spaces  were  stuffed  with  what  looked  like  mud. 

"  Aren't  you  hungry  ?"  asked  a  voice  outside. 

Then  Almina  knew  that,  wherever  she  was,  she  had  never 
been  so  nearly  famished  in  her  life. 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  She  was  going  to  ask  if  it  were 
dinner-time ;  then,  knowing  that  it  must  be  long  after  noon, 
she  inquired  if  "  there  was  a  meal  goin'  on  .'"' 

"There's  a  meal  going  to  go  on  the  minute  you  come 
out,"  was  the  response.  "  And  please,  please  don't  stay  to 
prink ;  there's  nobody  here  but  us,  and  I  am  starving.  I 
feel  as  if  I  should  swear  blue  blazes  if  you  stop  to  put  on  a 
dinner-gown,  or  any  such." 

Refreshed  by  her  sleep,  Almina  was  able  to  answer  glibly 
that  all  her  dinner-rigs  were  in  her  trunk,  and  her  trunk 
was  to  that  station. 

It  then  came  home  to  the  girl  standing  in  the  next  room 
that  she  had  entirely  forgotten  to  make  any  arrangement  for 
the  bringing  of  the  trunk.  She  found  comfort  in  remember- 
ing that  Bartholomew  had  not  yet  come  back  from  Asheville. 
When  Bartholomew  did  come  back — 

At  this  stage  in  her  remorseful  thoughts  the  door  in  front 
of  her  was  opened  a  crack,  and  Almina  asked,  deprecating- 
ly,  "Could  I  have  about  a  pint  of  water?  I  think  mebby  I 
could  git  'long  with  a  pint.  I  s'pose  you  have  water  in  these 
mountains.''" 


AN    INTERRUPTED    MEAL  55 

Temple  turned  to  fly,  but  before  she  took  wing  her  guest 
detained  her  by  saying  : 

"And  some  kind  of  a  dish  sootable  to  dab  my  fingers  in, 
'n'  to  wet  a  rag  so's  I  can  wipe  off  my  face.  I  hate  to  trou- 
ble ye." 

Temple  did  not  stay  to  listen  any  longer.  She  ran  to  her 
own  room,  which  was  at  the  farther  side  of  this  group  of 
connecting  loo:-houses. 

Uncivilized  as  her  manner  of  life  might  be  considered,  she 
was  quite  up  to  the  enlightened  standard  in  regard  to  ablu- 
tions. 

She  took  her  own  bowl  and  pitcher.  Her  face  was  red 
with  vexation  at  herself  that  she  should  have  treated  her 
guest  in  this  way.  She  ran  back  again  with  soap  and 
towels. 

She  was  waiting  before  the  fire  when  Almina  appeared 
with  face  pink  from  having  been  rubbed  with  a  towel,  and 
with  hair  carefully  done  on  crimping-pins  to  be  taken  out 
"before  tea-time." 

Sally  came  striding  in  with  the  dish  of  rabbit  in  one  hand 
and  the  sweet  potatoes  in  the  other. 

Almina  tried  not  to  show  how  hungry  she  was.  She  made 
a  pretence  of  being  deliberate.  And  Sally's  presence  em- 
barrassed her.  And  they  had  not  much  more  than  begun  to 
eat  before  the  white  Newfoundland  stalked  in  through  the 
open  door  and  sat  down  solemnly  by  his  mistress.  He  was 
immediately  given  the  leg  of  a  rabbit,  which  was  a  mere 
nothing. 

He  was  hardly  seated  before  there  entered  a  medium- 
sized  mongrel,  smooth  of  hair  and  yellow  of  color.  He  sat 
down  on  the  other  side  of  Temple,  and  he  also  received  the 
leg  of  a  rabbit.  This  last  arrival  was  Little  Bull.  He 
had  a  square  jaw,  with  under -teeth  protruding.  One  eye 
had  been  gouged  out,  but  had  healed  in  a  scientific  manner, 
so  that,  according  to  Temple,  Little  Bull  really  had  quite  a 
distinguished  appearance,  as  if  he  were  a  retired  general. 
Perhaps  this  distinguished  appearance  was  increased  by  the 


56  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

fact  that  one  ear  had  remaining  only  a  shred,  the  major  part 
having  been  torn  off  in  some  forgotten  battle.  The  eye  of 
Little  Bull  which  had  not  been  gouged  out  had  a  red  light 
in  it  which  accorded  perfectly  with  his  jaw. 

Temple  laid  down  a  morsel  of  hot  biscuit  that  she  might 
put  her  hand  on  the  round,  smooth  head.  Then  she  hastened 
to  caress  Yucatan  lest  he  should  suffer  from  jealousy. 

"If  either  of  these  dogs  is  within  a  mile  of  the  house  you 
needn't  be  one  bit  afraid,"  remarked  Temple  to  her  guest. 

Almina  was  reviving  with  great  rapidity.  She  was  not 
thinking  so  continuously  of  Massachusetts  and  home. 

"You  mean  that  they'll  be  so  far  off  they  can't  hurt  me.?" 
she  asked. 

"  No  ;  I  mean  that  they  won't  let  anybody  else  hurt  you." 

"Oh!" 

Almina  had  given  up  pretending  not  to  be  hungry.  She 
was  eating  in  that  steady,  business-like  way  that  gives  no 
sign  of  possible  cessation.  As  she  allowed  her  hostess  to 
help  her  a  third  time  to  the  stewed  sweet  potato  she  re- 
marked that  she  was  afraid  she  was  turning  into  a  mere  ani- 
mal. She  asked  the  girl  if  she  didn't  think  one  ought  to 
keep  the  spiritual  part  uppermost. 

Temple  replied  that  she  had  never  thought  much  about 
the  spiritual  part ;  she  considered  that — 

Having  proceeded  thus  far,  she  paused  and  looked  at  the 
doorway,  for  some  one  had  appeared  there. 

"Oh,  Bart,"  exclaimed  the  girl,  "I  hope  you've  got  the 
gears  mended.  I  want  you  to  take  the  mules  and  go  right 
down  to  the  junction  for — " 

Here  Temple  stopped  again  and  pushed  back  from  the 
table.     She  asked,  in  a  moment, 
/'What's  the  matter,  anyway?" 

Almina  now  turned  squarely  round  and  saw  a  tall,  grimy 
boy  of  seventeen  or  eighteen  standing  louting  just  within  the 
room. 

The  boy  hitched  a  little  as  he  stood.  He  kept  his  gaze 
on  the  floor. 


AN    INTERRUPTED    MEAL  57 

"  It's  that  there  Thimble,"  he  began,  and  then  stopped. 

The  girl  rose  ;  on  each  side  of  her  a  dog  rose  also,  and 
stood. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  with  Thimble  ?" 

When  she  put  this  question  each  dog  glanced  up  at  her 
with  an  indescribable  air  of  putting  himself  fully  on  her  side 
of  the  affair,  whatever  the  affair  might  turn  out  to  be. 

The  boy  shuffled  with  his  big,  muddy  feet.  But  he  made 
no  answer. 

"Is  anything  the  matter  with  Thimble  ?"  repeated  the  girl, 
her  voice  taking  on  a  tone  which  made  Miss  Drowdy's  heart 
begin  to  beat  in  her  throat. 

Bartholomew  this  time  did  not  dare  to  hesitate  in  his  re- 
ply. But  before  he  could  speak  Little  Bull  growled  dis- 
tinctly.    Still  he  continued  to  stand  by  his  mistress. 

"  He's  be'n  an'  curt  hisef,"  said  the  boy. 

"Cut  himself!  Oh,  you've  done  it!  Where  is  he? 
Where  is  he  ?     Speak,  if  you  don't  want  me  to  kill  you !" 

Temple  seemed  to  her  guest  to  leap  across  the  space 
which  separated  her  from  the  figure  at  the  door.  And  the 
dogs  leaped  with  her.  They  sprang  upon  the  boy  ;  he  fought 
them  off  with  his  fists. 

Temple  caught  hold  of  his  collar. 

"Where  is  Thimble.'*"  she  cried  again. 

The  girl's  face  was  white.  And  yet  her  face,  as  well  as 
her  eyes,  seemed  in  some  strange  way  to  be  on  fire. 

Almina  had  risen  also.  She  was  carried  away  by  the 
force  of  the  girl's  passion.  All  her  education  had  taught  her 
to  believe  in  restraint,  but  her  heart  went  out  in  spontaneous 
sympathy  with  the  vigor  and  abandon  of  Temple's  emotion. 

"  By  thur  lower  shed,"  gurgled  the  boy. 

He  was  down  on  his  knees  now  with  the  dogs  at  him. 

Temple  turned  and  ran  down  the  slope. 

After  a  slight  hesitation  the  dogs  ran  after  her.  But  Bull 
came  back  once  to  smell  at  Bart,  who  had  staggered  up  to 
his  feet. 

Bart  kicked  out  at  him,  and  muttered,  "  Cuss  yo  ' !' 


}  in 


58  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

This  remark  Bull  took  with  calmness.  He  finally  decided 
that,  since  his  mistress  did  not  consider  it  necessary  to  re- 
main and  punish  this  creature,  and  since  she  had  not  re- 
quested him  to  do  so,  he  also  would  go  down  to  the  lower 
shed  and  see  what  it  was  all  about. 

Sally  had  not  been  in  the  room,  and  now  Almina  was  left 
alone.  She  stood  undecided.  She  was  wondering  if  this 
kind  of  scene  was  of  frequent  occurrence,  and  was  it  custom- 
ary for  ponies  to  cut  themselves  among  these  mountains .'' 
and  if  there  was  a  cut  there  would  have  to  be  bandages  and 
— she  wished  that  she  had  brought  some  Arabian  balsam 
with  her. 

She  did  not  hesitate  any  longer.  She  hastened  to  find 
Sally.  She  told  the  yellow  woman  to  get  an  old  sheet  and 
hurry  down  to  the  lower  shed  as  fast  as  she  could. 

Sally  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  her  house.  At  the  mo- 
ment of  Miss  Drowdy's  appearance  she  had  a  fragment  of  the 
frame  of  a  rabbit  in  one  hand,  and  a  thick  piece  of  corn  pone 
in  the  other.  She  was  alternately  gnawing  at  the  skeleton 
and  biting  into  the  corn  bread. 

"  What's  up  ?"  she  asked,  after  having  heard  Almina's  re- 
quest, and  suspecting  instantly  that  this  Yankee  woman  was, 
as  she  phrased  it  to  herself,  "  running  mad." 

"  That  person  you  call  Bart  said  the  pony  had  cut  him- 
self," was  the  answer. 

Sally  dropped  her  rabbit  and  her  bread. 

"  Oh,  Lord !"  she  cried,  "  then  Bart's  be'n  a  doin'  sum- 
pin'  with  him.  Miss  Temple  she  won't  stan'  it  if  nawthin' 
happen  ter  dat  pony.  Go 'long  an'  be  er  helpin'.  I'll  bring 
everything." 

So  Almina  began  to  run  down  the  slope.  But  she  ran  in 
a  stiff,  middle-aged  way,  and  not  as  Temple  had  gone,  "  like 
a  raging  wild  animal." 


IV 

DR.    AMMIDOWN 

As  Miss  Drowdy  went  down  the  hill  she  gathered  impetus 
from  the  going  until  it  seemed  to  her  that  her  legs  were 
moving  on  their  own  account  and  were  running  away  with 
her.  And  she  was  confused  and  could  not  recognize  her 
identity.  Was  it  really  herself,  Almina  K.  Drowdy,  spinster, 
of  Hoyt,  Mass.,  who  was  going  at  this  unseemly  pace  down 
a  North  Carolina  mountain  ?  And  why  did  she  feel  that 
unusual  exhilaration  of  spirit  ?  Was  it  what  she  had  heard 
spoken  of  as  the  "  mountain  air  "  ?  She  had  never  breathed 
mountain  air  before,  and  she  did  not  know  of  what  it  was 
capable. 

And  where  was  the  lower  shed  ?  And  when  she  came  to 
the  lower  shed  should  she  be  able  to  stop  herself?  She 
was  almost  afraid  that  something  had  deviploped  in  her  legs 
that  would  make  them  keep  on  going  after  the  owner  of  them 
wished  to  halt. 

She  followed  a  curve  in  the  path.  A  few  rods  before  her 
she  saw  a  dilapidated  building,  with  a  roof  slightly  slanting, 
and  with  boards  and  shingles  held  in  place  on  the  roof  by 
some  stones  and  two  or  three  small  pieces  of  planking.  Even 
at  such  a  moment  Miss  Drowdy's  thrifty  eye  took  in  the  con- 
dition of  that  structure. 

In  front  of  it  stood  the  pony.  A  stream  of  blood  was 
trickling  down  its  white  fore-leg.  He  was  standing  quite  still, 
with  his  head  bent  downward  towards  his  mistress,  who  was 
kneeling  on  one  knee  and  clasping  her  hands  tightly  about 
the  upper  part  of  the  slender  limb. 

She  had  evidently  been  in  this  position  for  some  minutes, 


6o  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

for  there  was  a  strained  and  painful  look  in  her  face.     Her 
mouth  was  shut  so  tight  that  her  lips  were  white. 

As  Almina  drew  near,  the  big,  white  Newfoundland  walked 
up  and  snuffed  anxiously  at  the  blood  on  the  ground.  Lit- 
tle Bull,  who  had  had  time  to  arrive  since  leaving  Bart,  was 
sitting  on  his  haunches  close  to  the  group;  he  now  turned 
his  nose  heavenward  and  howled. 

"Oh,  do  lemme  help  you!"  exclaimed  Almina,  breath- 
lessly.    "  What  is  it  ?     I  told  Sally  to  bring  a  sheet." 

"Thimble  bleeds  horribly  if  I  let  go,"  said  Temple  in  a 
low  voice.  "I  couldn't  find  a  cord  in  the  shed  here.  There 
never's  anything  anywhere.  Oh,"  with  a  quick  breath, 
"somehow  ray  hands  get  stiff  so  soon  !" 

She  looked  up  at  the  long,  intelligent  pony  face  drooping 
towards  her.  Then  she  sobbed  heavily.  But  she  did  not 
relax  her  hold. 

"You  want  to  tie  something  above  the  cut?"  asked  Almi- 
na, quickly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  !" 

The  woman  had  not  even  a  handkerchief  about  her.  But 
she  remembered  her  home-knit  yarn  garters.  She  threw  up 
her  skirt  and  unwound  one  of  these  garters. 

"  Here,"  she  said,  "  lemme  bind  it  on." 

Temple  lifted  her  head,  which  had  drooped  again. 

"  Be  quick  !     Be  quick  !"  she  whispered. 

She  watched  her  guest  as  she  deftly  and  thoroughly  bound 
the  garter  above  the  wound. 

"  Hold  on  a  minute  longer,"  said  Almina.  "  I  want  a 
stick,  or  something.  I  know  how  to  do  it.  I  saw  the  doctor 
up  to  home  when  Jimmy  Bean  cut  his  leg." 

"  There's'  the  handle  of  a  whip  in  the  shed,"  said  Temple. 

Almina  found  the  handle.  In  another  moment  she  had 
in  effect  a  tourniquet  arranged. 

The  girl  watched  her.  From  that  moment  the  Yankee 
woman  held  a  different  place  in  Temple's  mind.  Miss 
Drowdy  could  not  ride,  and  found  it  difHcult  to  walk  up 
mountains,  but — 


DR.   AMMIDOWN  6l 

The  girl's  heart  glowed. 

She  took  her  hands  from  their  hold.  She  remained  on 
her  knee  a  moment  watching  the  slow  trickle  of  blood  ;  the 
flow  had  nearly  ceased.  Then  she  rose  and  turned  towards 
her  companion.  She  sobbed  again,  this  time  more  heavily. 
But  her  eyes  were  dry. 

"  I'm  going  to  love  you,  Miss  Drowdy ;  yes,  I  do  believe 
I'm  going  to  love  you,"  she  said. 

The  woman  felt  a  sudden  melting  of  her  heart  as  the 
voice,  curiously  sweet  with  an  abandonment  of  gratitude, 
came  to  her  ears. 

"I  hope  so;  I  hope  so,"  she  answered.  She  wondered 
why  she  whispered  as  she  spoke. 

Temple  turned  back  almost  instantly  to  the  pony.  She 
put  a  hand  on  each  side  of  his  face  and  looked  at  him  for 
an  instant,  her  lips  quivering  as  she  did  so.  But  she  did 
not  speak  until  she  had  released  the  animal's  face. 

She  glanced  up  the  hill. 

"There's  Sally  !"  she  exclaimed.  The  yellow  woman  was 
running  towards  them.  She  had  a  large  white  roll  under 
one  arm  and  what  seemed  to  be  a  clothes-line  in  her  hand. 

She  drew  herself  up  with  an  abruptness  and  a  strength 
that  reminded  one  of  a  sinewy  and  supple  horse. 

"  Fo'  de  Lord  Gawd  !"  she  cried  out ;  "whose  blood's  dat  ?" 

Temple  did  not  reply.  She  snatched  the  white  cloth 
from  the  woman  and  began  tearing  off  broad  strips  of  it. 

Presently  the  cut  was  securely  bound,  and  the  girl  was 
leading  the  pony  slow^ly  up  the  hill. 

Almina  and  Sally  walked  behind.  Yucatan  and  Little 
Bull  and  three  other  dogs  walked  still  farther  behind. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon.  The  sun  was  almost  to  the 
fringe  of  trees  on  the  top  of  one  of  the  distant  western 
mountains.  The  shadows  were  very  deep  in  the  hollows 
below.  The  air  w^as  so  still  that  the  sound  of  the  full-flow- 
ing French  Broad  came  up  from  the  valley  off  to  the  left  of 
the  little  procession.  One  of  the  cows  that  Bart  was  driv- 
ing up  the  mountain  lowed  in  a  mellow,  prolonged  tone. 


62  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

In  another  moment  the  sun  dropped  out  of  sight.  Then 
the  marvellous  flush  began  to  spread  over  the  top  and  sides 
of  Busbee. 

Almina's  eyes  distended  painfully  as  she  looked  about 
her.  Peak  after  peak  stood  against  the  growing  violet  of 
the  sky.     Almina  felt  as  if  she  must  pray. 

Involuntarily,  and  with  a  gesture  hitherto  unknown  to  her, 
she  clasped  her  hands  together.  She  wanted  to  raise  them 
thus  clasped  to  the  heavens.  But  she  did  not.  She  felt 
somehow  that  it  would  be  theatrical  if  she  should  yield  to 
the  impulse  upon  her. 

Temple  turned  into  the  yard  of  a  little  building  not  far 
from  the  house.  To  Almina's  judgment  there  seemed  to 
be  a  great  many  worthless,  shiftless  little  structures  here 
and  there. 

"I'll  bed  down  de  pony,  Miss  Temple,"  said  Sally. 

"No,"  was  the  reply.  "Go  on.  I'll  take  care  of  him. 
Put  some  water  on  to  heat.      He  shall  have  a  warm  mash." 

Miss  Drowdy  lingered.  She  saw  Temple  fork  out  some 
straw  and  make  a  bed  of  it.  Then  the  girl  examined  the 
bandage.     Then  she  put  her  arms  around  Thimble's  neck. 

"  They  sha'n't  hurt  my  own  true  love,"  Miss  Drowdy 
heard  her  say. 

The  pony  seemed  quite  comfortable ;  perhaps  a  little 
languid.  He  put  his  head  down  and  fumbled  with  his  lips 
for  some  bits  of  "  roughness." 

When  Temple  emerged  from  the  hut  where  she  had  put 
the  horse,  the  boy  Bartholomew  was  coming  down  from  the 
house,  swinging  a  milkpail  in  one  hand.  He  was  shuffling 
along  by  the  two  women  when  Temple  said, 

"Stop!" 

The  boy  stood  still. 

Without  meaning  to  do  so,  Almina  also  stood  still.  She 
saw  that  Temple's  face  was  thunderous. 

"You  were  riding  Thimble?"  said  the  girl. 

The  boy  moved  his  feet.     His  under-lip  hung  out. 

The  girl's  voice  deepened. 


DR.   AMMIDOWN  63 

"  You  were  riding  Thimble  ?"  she  repeated. 

"  Ya'sm,"  was  the  answer.  Bart  edged  away  a  little  as 
he  spoke,  but  Temple  followed  him. 

"I  told  you  never  to  mount  him." 

Miss  Drowdy's  face  began  to  grow  red  with  excitement  as 
she  heard  Temple's  words  and  voice. 

"  I  rode  him  to  thur  branch  for  water,"  said  Bart. 

"I  told  you  to  lead  him." 

Silence  on  the  boy's  part.  He  was  digging  the  toe  of  his 
broken  shoe  into  the  black  soil. 

"You  made  him  fall!" 

"  Naw.  He  fell  hisself — 'gainst  er  billy-hook  what  war 
'gainst  er  lawg." 

Bart  raised  a  surly,  frightened  face.  He  saw  his  infuriat- 
ed mistress  coming  at  him.  He  lifted  one  arm  and  bent  it 
before  his  head.  But  it  did  not  seem  to  defend  him.  Tem- 
ple struck  out  like  a  young  Fury,  and  Bart  fell — but  only  to 
his  knee.  He  scrambled  up  again.  Temple  walked  on, 
with  Miss  Drowdy,  horrified,  by  her  side. 

It  seemed  to  the  woman  as  if  she  must  speak.  She 
glanced  at  her  companion.  The  girl's  eyes  were  full  of 
fire. 

"Miss  Crawford — Temple,"  began  Almina. 

The  sirl  turned  to  her.  The  woman  found  that  she  could 
not  say  another  word. 

The  two  entered  the  house  by  the  door  of  the  largest 
room.  Almina  sat  confusedly  down  in  a  chair  in  front  of 
the  hearth.  She  bent  forward  and  spread  out  her  hands, 
though  she  was  not  cold. 

Temple  passed  on  into  the  next  room.  Impelled  by  an 
acute  interest,  Almina  rose  and  went  to  the  outer  door. 

The  purple  was  now  deepened  on  all  the  mountains  to  the 
east.  Almina  had  heard  of  an  "amethyst  light,"  but  she 
had  never  quite  believed  in  any  such  thing — it  was  just 
poetry.  But  here  was  the  amethyst  color — a  miraculous 
tint  so  beautiful  that  Almina's  pulses  swelled  again. 

She  saw  Temple  come  out  of  Sally's  cabin  with  a  pail  of 


64  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

hot  water  in  her  hand.     She  went  down  towards  Thimble's 
stable. 

"  Can't  I  help  you  ?"  asked  Miss  Drowdy. 

"Thanks;  there  is  no  need."  But  Almina  did  not  go  in. 
She  stood  there  looking  about  her.  Already  the  color  was 
fading.  A  wind  swept  up  from  the  river.  It  seemed  to 
have  the  scent  of  arbutus  blossoms  in  it.  Could  it  be  that 
it  was  time  for  those  flowers,  and  that  they  grew  here  ? 

After  a  while  Almina  went  and  got  a  shawl.  She  put  it  on 
her  head  and  sat  in  the  open  doorway.  She  saw  Sally  go  to 
a  shed  near  by,  lead  out  a  mule  and  saddle  it.  Then  Temple 
came  from  one  of  the  numerous  outer  doors  and  mounted 
the  mule.  But  first  she  went  to  Thimble's  stable  again. 
Miss  ,Drowdy  supposed  it  was  Temple ;  but  the  girl  was 
dressed  now  in  something  that  seemed  in  the  dusk  like  a 
close,  plain  skirt  and  dark  jacket,  with  a  little  stiff  hat  on 
her  head.  It  was  almost  like  a  disguise.  She  mounted  the 
mule  and  rode  down  the  mountain  in  the  direction  of  the 
State  road.  From  some  place  unseen,  Yucatan  rose,  and 
Almina  saw  his  white  shape  loping  along  the  path.  Then 
Little  Bull  trotted  briskly  after.  But  he  was  called  sharply 
back  by  Sally,  who  walked  out  from  her  hut  with  a  pipe 
clinched  between  her  teeth,  her  hands  on  her  hips,  a  small 
shawl  twisted  about  her  head. 

Almina  asked  if  Miss  Temple  were  going  away. 

"Gwine  ter  Asheville  fur  de  doctor,"  was  the  answer. 

"  The  doctor  ?"  in  surprise. 

"  Fur  de  pony.  She  ain't  gwine  ter  run  no  resks  'bout 
dat  pony.     She  was  dat  pernicketty  she  wouldn't  let  me  go." 

Sally  walked  slowly  back  and  forth  before  the  door  where 
Almina  sat.     She  smoked  and  gazed  about  her. 

The  Massachusetts  woman  began  to  feel  utterly  desolate. 
The  black  shapes  of  the  mountains  frightened  her.  That 
large  yellow  woman  might  suddenly  turn  into  a  fiend.  Who 
could  tell  what  yellow  women  might  do? 

Almina  rose.  She  asked  timidly  if  the  door  couldn't  be 
shut. 


DR.   AM  MI  DOWN 


65 


Sally  said,  "Laws,  yas,"  and  good-naturedly  closed  the  door. 

Almina  hovered  over  the  fire  on  the  hearth.  She  won- 
dered what  her  sister  was  doing  in  Hoyt.  And  had  Fred- 
dy gone  to  bed  .''     It  was  difficult  to  keep  from  crying. 

Temple,  riding  in  the  sombre  darkness  under  the  trees 
and  letting  her  mule  pick  its  way,  not  only  felt  like  crying, 
but  yielded  to  that  feeling. 

She  was  thinking  of  how  Thimble  had  looked  at  her 
when  she  was  kneeling  by  him,  gripping  him  so  tightly  that 
the  blood  might  not  come  in  that  dreadful  way. 

The  tears  dropped  on  her  cheeks  and  rolled  off  on  the 
little  jacket  that  she  had  outgrown.  Thimble  ?  Why,  he 
had  been  part  of  herself  for  five  years.  Her  father  had 
bought  him  almost  before  the  pony  had  been  broken.  She 
had  risked  her  life  in  training  him.  If  anything  should 
happen  to  that  pony — here  the  girl  drew  a  deep  breath  and 
set  her  teeth.  She  set  her  teeth  because  she  thought  of 
Bartholomew.  Perhaps  she  should  kill  that  boy  some  time. 
If  he  ever  mounted  Thimble  again  she  should  certainly  feel 
like  killing  him.  It  was  just  as  well  to  rid  the  world  of  such 
vermin.  And  no  one,  absolutely  no  one,  should  mount 
Thimble  without  her  express  permission. 

What  a  dull  old  brute  this  mule  was !  In  her  mind  she 
said  "  muel."  She  had  taken  up  some  words  that  the 
negroes  or  poor  whites  employed,  and  the  use  of  them  had 
become  second  nature  to  her. 

She  pressed  her  spurred  foot  against  the  beasf  s  side. 
He  broke  into  a  clumsy  trot.  She  was  now  on  the  public 
road.  There  were  the  lights  of  the  junction  shining  in  the 
valley.  Four  miles  away  she  saw  the  brilliance  in  the  sky 
above  Asheville.  She  continued  to  urge  her  beast,  which 
did  not  want  to  trot,  and  was  continually  floundering  back 
into  a  walk. 

Frequently  the  girl  met  carts  coming  from  the  city.  In 
these  carts,  slouching  forward  with  elbows  on  knees,  often- 
times were  neighbors  of  hers.  They  peered  at  her,  and 
then  said : 


66  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  Howdy,  Miss  Temple  ?"  and  she  nodded  in  return. 
Sometimes  she  said  "  Hullo  "  in  response. 

"  I  knowed  ye  by  yer  white  dawg,"  said  one,  with  a  laugh. 

Yucatan  loped  along  soberly  by  the  mule's  side.  Once 
in  a  while  he  stopped  and  smelled  for  a  few  minutes  at 
something  by  the  highway,  then  came  racing  on,  overtook 
his  mistress,  and  settled  into  his  lope  again. 

At  last  there  were  the  houses  of  Asheville  ;  there  were 
the  scores  of  twinkling  lights  at  Battery  Park  Hotel ;  there 
were  the  now  solemn,  dark  shapes  of  mountains  round 
about  the  town. 

Temple  did  not  hesitate.  She  went  straight  along  a  cer- 
tain street  and  halted  at  a  gate  over  which  burned  a  lamp, 
on  which  was  the  name  "  Dr.  Sublitt." 

The  girl  slipped  quickly  out  of  her  saddle  and  tied  the 
bridle  to  a  post.  She  went  into  the  house.  But  in  a  mo- 
ment she  came  back.  The  corners  of  her  mouth  drooped 
in  disappointment.  She  hesitated  but  an  instant.  She 
put  her  arm  through  the  mule's  bridle  and  led  him  around 
past  the  court-house.  Occasionally  she  met  a  man  who 
doffed  his  hat  to  her  and  at  whom  she  smiled  in  absent 
recognition.     She  went  in  at  the  grounds  of  Battery  Park. 

A  black  boy  came  out  and  took  charge  of  the  mule.  The 
girl  walked  in.  She  did  not  ask  any  question  of  any  ser- 
vant. She  went  up  one  flight  of  stairs  and  knocked  at  a 
door. 

There  was  a  slight  rustle,  the  frou-frou  of  silk  skirts,  and 
the  door  opened. 

A  tall  woman,  in  a  light-colored  silk  gown  which  trailed 
behind  her,  and  which  had  a  big  bunch  of  sweet-smelling 
roses  in  the  corsage,  uttered  an  exclamation  and  then  seized 
Temple's  arm  and  drew  her  into  the  room.  She  smiled 
down  at  the  girl  an  instant ;  then  she  said  : 

"  Well  ?"  interrogatively. 

"  I  came  in  after  Dr.  Sublitt,"  said  Temple,  "  but  he  isn't 
at  home ;  the  man  told  me  he  had  gone  over  beyond  Beau- 
catcher,  and  would  be  gone  all  night." 


DR.  AMMIDOWN  67 

"  Who's  ill  ?"  asked  the  young  woman,  quickly.  And  she 
added,  "  But,  since  you  are  here,  there's  nobody  but  Sally 
left." 

"  It  isn't  Sally ;  it's  Thimble,"  was  the  answer. 

"Thimble  ?     But  how  did  you  come,  then  ?'' 

"  I  came  on  a  muel — a  mule,  I  mean.  But  oh,  ]\Irs. 
Ammidown,  don't  ask  questions  !  I  want  a  doctor  so  as  to 
be  sure  we've  taken  care  of  Thimble  all  right.  I  could  have 
relied  on  Dr.  Sublitt.  Now  please  tell  me  where  to  go  for 
one,  and  don't  hesitate.  I  can't  bear  it  if  you  hesitate.  I 
thought  I  never  should  get  in  here,  anyway.  A  muel's  no 
good." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  was  standing  with  her  hands  clasped 
behind  her,  looking  at  her  unexpected  guest.  She  was  still 
smiling  a  little,  though  at  mention  of  the  pony  she  tried  to 
look  more  grave. 

"  I  must  hesitate  until  I  can  think,"  she  answered.  "  You 
might  find  all  the  doctors  out.  There's  an  epidemic  of  in- 
fluenza, or  something  of  the  sort." 

She  took  a  turn  across  the  room,  still  with  her  hands 
behind  her.  The  girl  stood  near  the  door,  gazing  intently 
at  her  companion.  The  long  silk  trail  swished  softly  be- 
hind the  lady  as  she  moved.     She  came  back  to  Temple. 

"  If  you  wouldn't  mock  I'd  offer  Dr.  Laura  Ammidown," 
she  said. 

"  What,  you  yourself  ?"  exclaimed  Temple,  trying  not  to 
show  too  much  impatience. 

"  Yes,  I  myself.  You  must  remember  that  I  am  a  reg- 
ular, full-fledged  physician,  with  five  years'  practice  some- 
where in  the  past." 

"  I  do  remember  that  you  told  me,"  was  the  answer, 
"  but  you  never  say  anything  about  it,  and  I  never  think 
of  it." 

"  Naturally.  Will  you  trust  me  ?"  In  spite  of  her  effort 
not  to  hesitate,  Temple  did  hesitate  before  she  said  : 

"  But  the  pony  isn't  sick ;  he's  been  cut ;  he  bled.  Do 
you  think —  "     Here  she  stopped. 


68  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  I  paid  special  attention  to  surgery,"  said  Mrs.  Ammi- 
down.  "  I  could  cut  off  your  head,  Temple  Crawford,  and 
take  up  the  veins  and  arteries  so  that  you  should  not  bleed 
to  death." 

As  she  spoke  the  lady  held  out  her  right  hand  and 
looked  at  it  with  a  glance  of  admiration  for  what  it  could 
do,  perhaps  for  what  it  had  done. 

"  Then  I  wish  you'd  come,"  responded  the  girl,  hastily. 
"  But  that  gown — you'll  be  ever  so  long  taking  it  off,  and  if 
Thimble  should  begin  to  bleed  again — " 

Temple's  face  set  in  a  resolution  to  contain  herself  in 
some  way. 

"  Ever  so  long,  shall  I  ?     Let  the  event  decide." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  laughed  slightly,  the  laugh  showing  that 
her  mouth  was  large  and  that  her  teeth  overlapped  each 
other,  though  very  white.  It  was  an  agreeable  mouth,  nev- 
ertheless. This  was  the  kind  of  woman  who  would  make 
any  feature  almost,  however  ugly,  agreeable.  Who  was 
that  woman  of  the  French  court  who  was  fascinating  and 
apparently  beautiful  in  her  old  age  when  she  drooled,  and 
as  she  sat  playing  cards  was  obliged  to  have  her  chin  bound 
up  with  a  handkerchief  ? 

"  Go  down  and  give  the  order  for  Mrs.  Ammidown's 
horse  to  be  saddled  instantly — instantly.  I  could  ring  and 
order  it  myself,  but  if  you  go  it  will  give  you  occupation." 

Temple  left  the  room  without  replying.  She  was  used  to 
doing  exactly  what  she  pleased,  and  she  was  in  no  mood 
now  to  run  the  risk  of  a  servant's  delay.  She  gave  the  or- 
der, and  she  made  her  way  to  the  stables  and  saw  it  obeyed. 

She  was  surprised  to  find  Mrs.  Ammidown  in  cap  and 
riding-habit  waiting  at  the  door  when  she  came  round  with 
the  groom  and  the  horse. 

*'  I  didn't  believe  it,"  she  explained,  in  a  relieved  voice. 

"  I  know  that,"  was  the  repl}^  Mrs.  Ammidown  sprang 
from  the  groom's  hand.  Temple  got  into  her  saddle  by 
herself  at  the  same  moment.  Yucatan  darted  on  ahead  as 
if  for  a  reconnoitre. 


DR.   AMMIDOWN  69 

The  two  kept  together  down  the  street  from  Battery  Park. 
Just  as  they  turned  the  corner  on  to  the  road  that  stretched 
out  towards  the  junction,  a  man  on  a  large  black  horse  came 
cantering  up  the  hill.  The  light  of  a  lamp  fell  upon  him, 
and  Mrs.  Ammidown  involuntarily  pulled  her  horse  in. 

"  Is  that  you,  Richard  V  she  asked. 

She  spoke  eagerly  and  gladly.  The  man,  who  had  not 
been  noticing  anybody  apparently,  turned  and  mechanically 
lifted  his  hat. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  it's  Laura,  is  it  ?  Well,  you  see  IVe  got 
here." 

His  glance  wandered  to  Temple,  then  back  again  to  the 
one  who  had  addressed  him. 

"  Go  and  have  your  dinner,  then  wait  in  my  sitting-room 
at  the  Battery,"  was  Mrs.  Ammidown's  next  remark.  "  I 
don't  know  when  I  shall  be  back." 

The  man  looked  again  at  Temple  ;  he  said  nothing,  but 
continued  to  look  at  her  for  the  space  of  the  fraction  of  a 
moment,  when  the  two  women  went  on.  Then  he  half 
turned  his  horse  as  if  to  follow  them.  But  he  did  not 
follow.  He  made  his  horse  canter  on  to  the  hotel.  There 
he  partook  of  an  extremely  abstemious  meal  for  a  man  who 
had  ridden  horseback  in  mountain  air  all  day. 

Then  he  informed  the  clerk  that  he  wished  to  be  shown 
to  Mrs.  Ammidown's  room,  that  he  was  her  brother,  and 
would  wait  there  for  her  return. 

He  wrote  in  the  register  the  name  Richard  Mercer. 

Meanwhile  Temple  tried  in  vain  to  make  her  mule  keep 
up  with  the  steady,  fast  gallop  of  her  companion's  horse. 
But  when  the  city  was  well  behind  them  she  gave  up  this 
attempt. 

"  You  go  on,  please,"  she  said,  "  and  I'll  come  as  fast  as 
I  can.  Sally  will  take  you  to  Thimble.  I  almost  think 
he's  doing  well,  but  I  couldn't  rest  without  knowing  posi- 
tively." 

So  Mrs.  Ammidown  let  her  horse  go  still  faster.  It  was 
by  reason  of  this  arrangement  that  Almina  Drowdy,  during 


70  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

a  restless  walk  about  the  log-house,  with  rubbers  on  her 
feet  and  a  shawl  on  her  head,  saw^  in  the  semi-darkness 
what  seemed  a  horsewoman  coming  up  from  the  trees  into 
the  clearing  far  down  the  slope. 

Sally  was  asleep  by  her  own  hearth.  The  dogs  were  the 
only  live  things  that  shared  Almina's  watch.  And  now,  led 
by  Little  Bull,  these  animals  scrambled  down  in  full  cry  at 
the  new-comer. 

Almina  knew  that  this  was  not  Temple,  for  Temple  was 
on  a  dark  mule,  and  this  was  a  light  horse  that  was  easily 
climbing  the  path  at  a  swift  walk. 

Almina,  to  use  her  own  words,  "  felt  just  as  skittish  as 
could  be  "  when  she  saw  this  person  approaching.  At  first 
the  dusk  prevented  her  from  knowing  certainly  whether  it 
were  a  man  or  a  woman.  If  a  man,  of  course  he  was  ca- 
pable of  anything  in  the  way  of  horrible  crime.  IMiss 
Drowdy  had  a  vague  belief  that  men  in  these  mountains 
lived  but  to  do  evil  deeds. 

She  wondered  if  Little  Bull  would  be  of  any  account  as 
a  protector,  and  could  she  set  Little  Bull  at  that  person's 
throat. 

She  drew  her  shawl  closer  about  her  head,  and  resolved 
to  stand  her  ground  in  the  doorway  of  the  house. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  came  directly  to  her.  When  within 
comfortable  speaking  distance  she  asked,  quickly : 

"  Where's  the  pony  ?"  Almina  sighed  with  relief.  She 
advanced  a  step. 

"  Oh  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  you're  a  woman,  ain't  you  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  am.  Where's  the  pony  ?  And  have  you  got 
a  lantern  ?" 

"  And  you  ain't  a  moonshiner  ?"  confusedly  questioned 
the  other. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  laughed.  She  urged  her  horse  yet  near- 
er. She  thrust  the  too  demonstrative  yellow  dog  down  with 
her  hand. 

"  No,  I'm  not  a  moonshiner.  I'm  the  doctor  come  to  see 
Miss  Crawford's  pony." 


DR.   AMMIDOWN  7I 

This  also  was  confusing,  for  Almina  was  not  used  to 
women  doctors ;  she  didn't  know  whether  she  beheved  in 
them  or  not.  But  she  roused  herself.  She  tried  to  shake 
off  the  sense  of  bewilderment  that  had  been  upon  her  ever 
since  her  arrival.  She  did  not  know  anything  about  a  lan- 
tern, but  she  knew  where  Thimble  was.  She  took  a  lamp 
and  matches,  and  led  this  unusual  doctor  to  the  wretched 
little  hut  where  the  pony  spent  his  nights. 

When  within  its  shelter,  with  the  lamp  lighted,  she  was 
conscious  of  the  swift,  comprehensive  glance  that  swept 
over  her. 

It  took  Mrs.  Ammidown  but  a  short  time  to  learn  that 
everything  proper  had  been  done,  and  that  Thimble  was  as 
rioht  as  he  could  be  under  the  circumstances. 

The  two  women  went  back  to  the  house.  They  sat 
down  on  opposite  sides  of  the  hearth  and  looked  at  each 
other.     Almina  shrank  a  little  as  she  encountered  the  keen 

eyes. 

"  Have  you  come  to  stay  with  Temple  Crawford  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Ammidown,  so  gently  that  her  question  lost  some  of 
its  abruptness. 

"  I — I  don't  know,"  was  the  hesitating  answer.  "  I  guess 
I  have.     She  sent  for  me." 

"  Sent  for  you  ?  Ah  !"  The  lady  leaned  forward  towards 
her  companion  and  into  the  firelight. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Temple  ?"  she  asked,  this  time 
using  a  more  incisive  tone. 

"  Think  of  her  ?"  repeated  Almina.  Then  she  added, 
weakly :  "  I  can't  tell.  I  ain't  much  acquainted  with  her 
yet.     I  only  came  this  morning." 

Then  she  asked  herself  if  it  were  only  this  morning,  real- 
ly. Her  change  of  surroundings  had  somewhat  obscured 
her  natural  sense  and  shrewdness.  She  felt  that  she  was 
dull,  and  she  also  felt  that  she  could  not  help  being  dull. 
She  "hadn't  got  her  bearings  yet"  she  told  herself,  and 
things  were  so  extremely  different.  She  had  always  known 
theoretically,  and  had  always  said  that  she  supposed  "  that 


72 


AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 


there  were  places  in  the  world  where  they  did  do  things 
different  from  what  they  did  in  Hoyt,  Mass."  Still  she  had 
not  been  prepared  to  find  so  great  an  unlikeness. 

She  stared  at  the  face  opposite  in  the  firelight ;  and  she 
did  not  know  whether  she  liked  that  face  or  not. 

"  Surely  you  cannot  see  a  girl  like  Temple  and  not  in- 
stantly have  some  strong  opinion  concerning  her,"  said  Mrs. 
Ammidown. 

"  I  don't  think  I've  come  to  my  senses  yet,"  returned 
Almina,  helplessly.  "  I  was  struck  down  there  to  the 
deepo  this  morning  when  she  come  to  me  as  I  was  settin' 
on  my  trunk.  I  was  struck  by  her  face  ;  'n'  her  jacket ; 
'n'  her  way  of  talkin' ;  'n'  that  spur  thing  on  her  foot.  I 
wouldn't  have  said  that  I  should  like  any  such  kind  of  a 
girl,  but  I  declare  " — pausing  to  gather  emphasis — "  I  do 
like  her  already." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  nodded.  She  held  up  one  large  well- 
shaped  hand  between  her  and  the  fire. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her  yourself?"  inquired  Almina, 
with  increased  courage  and  clearness  of  mind.  This  wom- 
an doctor  did  not  put  her  down,  after  all,  as  she  had  expect- 
ed her  to  do. 

"  I  .'*"  said  Mrs.  Ammidown.  She  rose  suddenly  and 
stood  with  her  hands  behind  her,  as  it  was  a  habit  with 
her  to  stand.  "  I  don't  know  what  I  think  of  her.  I  think 
a  thousand  things — strong,  intense,  delightful,  dreadful.  Ev- 
ery time  I  see  her  I  ask  myself  what  she  is  going  to  take 
from  life  for  her  own.  Look  at  her  eyes — '  spirit,  fire,  and 
dew.'  Look  at  her  .chin — strong,  matter-of-fact,  common- 
sense.  If  she  hadn't  that  chin  she  would  drift  into  pur- 
poseless emotion  ;  having  it,  I've  not  the  least  idea  what 
she'll  do.  Now  she  loves  the  mountains,  her  pony,  and  her 
dogs.  I  never  saw  any  one  love  mountains,  a  pony,  or  dogs 
as  she  does.  She  saved  my  life  the  first  time  I  saw  her : 
swam  into  the  French  Broad  and  took  me  to  the  bank,  af- 
ter I  had  tipped  myself  over  in  a  ridiculous  little  shallop 
which  I  would  use  on-  the  river.      That  was  a  year  ago, 


DR.   AMMIDOWN  73 

down  here,  not  far  away.  I  naturally  thanked  her  rather 
warmly.  But  she  laughed  at  me,  and  said  that  she  could 
swim  almost  as  well  as  she  could  ride  or  walk.  She  tried 
to  conceal  her  contempt  for  a  person  who  could  not  swim. 
There's  a  lot  of  common-sense  in  your  face,"  looking  sud- 
denly and  penetratingly  at  Almina,  who  was  particularly 
pleased  with  this  compliment,  as  she  had  begun  to  fear  that 
she  had  never  had  any  common  -  sense,  after  all,  "  so  I 
wanted  to  know  what  you  thought  of  Temple.  But  here  she 
is  now." 

The  sound  of  hoofs  was  heard.  In  a  moment  Temple 
opened  the  door  and  walked  in.  She  looked  eagerly  at 
Mrs.  Ammidown,  but  before  she  could  speak  that  lady  said  : 

"He's  all  right." 

"  And  I  needn't  worry  ?" 

"  Not  the  least.  You  arranged  a  famous  tourniquet, 
didn't  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  do  that ;  it  was  Miss  Drowdy  who  did 
that." 

The  girl  looked  warmly  at  Almina,  who  tried  not  to  re- 
turn the  glance.  Temple  walked  impetuously  to  her  side 
and  took  her  hand,  holding  it  closely  an  instant. 

*'  I  saw  what  the  doctor  did  when  Jimmy  Bean's  leg  was 
cut,"  she  said,  modestly. 

"  That  was  lucky  for  Thimble,"  said  Mrs.  Ammidown. 

Temple  sat  down  Turk  fashion  on  the  floor  in  front  of 
the  fire,  and  between  the  two  women. 

"  I  hate  a  mule,"  she  remarked,  with  force  and  with 
seeming  irrelevance.  "This  one  fell  lame,  so  that  I  was  a 
good  while  getting  home." 

There  was  a  scratching  at  the  door. 

"  There's  Yucatan.  He  was  as  disgusted  with  that 
beast  as  I  was." 

She  rose  and  let  in  the  Newfoundland,  who  immediately 
selected  a  good  place  by  the  fire  and  sat  down.  He  rolled 
his  eyes  round  upon  the  assembled  company,  seemed  to 
consider  them  worthy  of  his  presence,  and    then    began 


74  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

carefully  to  lick  his  paw,  which  he  had  cut  slightly  on  a 
broken  bottle  in  Asheville  Street. 

Temple  stood  a  moment  in  silence.  Then  she  exclaimed 
that  there  must  be  something  hospitable  that  she  could  at- 
tempt, and  what  was  it  ?  Eating  and  drinking  were  gener- 
ally considered  the  things  for  guests  to  do.  Was  anybody 
hungry .?  She  was,  for  one.  She  would  have  Sally  fry  a 
chicken  and  make  some  tea.     Mrs.  Ammidown  would  stay  ? 

Certainly  Mrs.  Ammidown  would  stay.  She  said  that 
her  brother  had  arrived  from  Tennessee  that  evening,  but 
that  he  could  not  find  a  more  comfortable  place  than  her 
room. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  before  the  fried  chicken  and  the 
rice  curry  were  on  the  table,  and  the  three  women  were  eat- 
ing as  those  eat  who  are  out-of-doors  among  Carolina 
mountains. 

Almina  was  sure  that  it  was  very  strange  to  eat  at  this  hour, 
and  she  would  probably  begin  to  have  dyspepsia  immediately. 
She  did  not  believe  there  had  ever  before  been  a  Drowdy 
who  had  eaten  chicken  and  that  hot  kind  of  rice  at  that 
time  of  night.  She  dared  not  think  what  these  things  might 
do  to  her.  And  the  talk  began  to  be  so  strange  that  she 
was  fascinated  and  frightened.  She  didn't  know  as  people 
could  talk  in  that  manner.  She  began  to  watch  Temple  in 
a  bewitched  kind  of  way. 

After  supper,  and  while  Sally  was  going  to  and  fro  be- 
tween her  cabin  and  the  larger  cabin,  the  girl  went  to  her 
own  room,  and  came  back  with  a  violin.  She  walked  with 
it  held  in  position  up  to  her  shoulder.  She  flourished  the 
bow  over  it,  but  did  not  yet  touch  the  strings. 

Sally  had  just  placed  a  large  waiter  covered  with  dishes 
on  her  head,  and  she  had  a  pile  of  plates  in  her  hands. 
She  paused  and  gazed. 

"  Fo'  Gawd's  sake,  Miss  Temple,  yo'  ain't  gwine  ter  play, 
air  yo'  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Temple,  who  had  now  begun  to  tune 
the  instrument  as  she  stood  at  one  end  of  the  room. 


DR.  AMMIDOWN  75 

Almina  was  afraid  that  this  would  be  too  much  for  her. 
She  had  never  seen  a  woman  with  a  violin  before ;  she  had 
never  believed  that  a  fiddle  was  a  woman's  instrument.  A 
melodeon  now — 

She  drew  herself  up  in  her  chair,  and  prepared  to  endure 
whatever  might  happen.  And  it  was  her  bedtime,  too. 
Everything  was  all  turned  round  here  compared  with  the 
way  she  was  used  to  having  things. 

Mrs.  Ammidown — ought  she  to  be  called  Dr.  Ammidown  ? 
— was  in  one  of  the  large  chairs  near  the  fire.  Almina  saw 
with  distrust  and  reproof  that  this  lady  was  not  sitting ;  she 
was  lolling.  She  had  sunk  down  in  her  rocker,  and  her 
feet  were  stretched  far  out  in  front  of  her.  She  was  gazing 
with  half  -  closed  eyes  at  Temple,  whose  head  was  bent 
slightly  to  catch  the  sounds  as  she  screwed  up  the  strings 
and  picked  at  them. 

"Why  don't  you  want  her  to  play,  Sally?"  asked  Mrs. 
Ammidown,  without  turning  her  head. 

"  'Cause,"  was  the  reply.  The  yellow  woman  had  not  left 
the  room  ;  she  was  still  standing  in  a  fine  pose  with  the  tray 
on  her  head.  After  a  moment  she  added,  "  It  gits  into  my 
blood  somehow,  an'  it  gits  into  my  spine.  She  don't  play 
as  the  niggers  play,  she  don't." 

"  Oh,  your  blood  and  your  spine  ?"  repeated  Mrs.  Ammi- 
down. 

She  turned  and  looked  at  Sally. 

"  If  I  were  only  a  sculptor,"  she  exclaimed,  with  animation, 
"  instead  of  a  woman  who  was  once  a  doctor,  and  who  is 
now  a  rich  widow — " 

"  Go  about  your  work,"  said  Temple,  peremptoril}^,  show- 
ing that  she  could  be  Sally's  mistress  as  well  as  her  com- 
panion. 

The  yellow  woman  left  the  room. 

Temple  lifted  her  fiddle  to  her  shoulder,  and  drew  the 
bow  in  one  long  sweep  across  all  the  strings.  It  was  in 
tune. 

"  Play  '  Dissembling  Love,'  "  said  Mrs.  Ammidown. 


76  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

For  the  life  of  her,  Miss  Drowdy  could  not  explain  why 
she  should  feel  so  excited.  She  confessed  to  herself  that 
she  was  "  all  creepy,  crawly." 

That  had  been  green  tea  that  she  had  taken  with  her 
supper.  And  green  tea  always  did  make  her  drunk.  And 
what  was  "  Dissembling  Love,"  anyway  .'* 

She  didn't  like  the  sound  of  that  name.  It  couldn't  be 
any  proper  kind  of  a  piece  to  play,  and  for  a  young  woman, 
and  on  a  fiddle  !  Her  whole  life  at  home  rose  before  her  in 
strong  reproach.  If  this  were  really  Roger  Crawford's 
daughter  she  would  probably  never  be  able  to  do  a  thing 
with  her.  It  was  a  mysterious  dispensation  of  Providence 
that  she  had  been  allowed  to  come  down  here  to  North  Caro- 
lina. She  almost  began  to  believe  that  perhaps  it  had  been 
an  all-wise  arrangement  that  had  prevented  her  from  mar- 
rying Roger. 

Temple  played  a  few  bars.  Then  she  stopped  abruptly. 
She  looked  at  Mrs.  Ammidown,  who  was  gazing  beneath 
lowered  lids  at  her. 

"I  suppose  you  think  there  is  such  a  thing  as  love  ?"  said 
the  girl,  suddenly. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  think  so,"  was  the  answer. 

Almina  stirred  uneasily,  but  she  said  nothing. 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  now  inquired  Temple. 

She  had  laid  her  violin  across  her  knees. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  drew  herself  up  a  little  in  her  chair. 

"  I  think  there  is  such  a  thing  as  love  because  I  have 
felt  it,"  she  answered. 

Almina  wondered  why  the  speaker  did  not  blush,  and  she 
blushed  for  her. 

Temple's  lip  curled  up  expressively. 

"Then  I  suppose  you  married  for  love?"  she  said. 

"Yes." 

"  How  disgusting  that  must  be  !"  said  Temple,  in  a  voice 
to  suit  her  scornful  lip. 

Almina's  blush  deepened.  This  was  not  the  way  they 
talked  of  love  in  Hoyt.     This  girl  must  have  been  brought 


DR.    AMMIDOWN  77 

up  even  more  strangely  than  had  at  first  appeared.  Almina 
wondered  if  Temple  could  be  reformed. 

"  What  do  you  mean  .?"  asked  Mrs.  Ammidown. 

"  Why,  I  mean  what  I  say — disgusting,"  was  the  answer. 
"  IMen  don't  really  care.  Men  are  the  only  kind  of  animals 
that  I  could  not  possibly  love." 

"  You  haven't  seen  many  men,"  remarked  Mrs.  Ammi- 
down. 

"  No ;  but  I  know^  them,  I  know  them,"  wdth  increased 
emphasis.     "  Animals  !"  in  an  exclamatory  whisper.     . 

"  Temple,  you  really  hadn't  ought  to  talk  that  way,"  said 
Almina,  anxiously.     "  It  ain't  exactly  modest." 

"  Besides,"  said  Mrs.  Ammidown,  "  girls  often  talk  like 
that;  but  women  are  going  to  love  and  marry  to  the  end  of 
time." 

"  I  wasn't  speaking  about  marrying,"  said  Temple,  very 
unexpectedly. 

"  I  thought  you  were,"  was  the  response. 

"  No,  only  of  love.  If  I  should  think  I  loved  some  one 
— only  I  could  never  think  so — and  then  should  be  married 
and  get  over  loving — and  everybody  does  get  over  it — then 
I  should  hate  myself  and  be  utterly  wretched.  I've  de- 
cided that  it  would  be  better  to  marry,  only  I  sha'n't  marry, 
just  because  I  felt  real  friendly  to  some  man.  And  then 
we  should  be  comfortable,  and  never  have  any  great  happi- 
ness to — to  fall  from,  you  know.     Yes,  I've  decided  that." 

*'  Oh,  you've  decided  that  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have.  And  somehow  I  never  thought  about  men 
as  girls  in  novels  do.  They  always  seem  to  think  men  are 
so  attractive  and  wonderful  and  fine.  They're  not.  They're 
just  brutes — selfish,  coarse,  repulsive.  I  am  sure  the  most 
refined  of  them  are  repulsive  when  you  come  to  know  their 
natures.  I  know  them  better  than  you  think,  Mrs.  Ammi- 
down." 

"  Merciful  Heaven  !"  cried  that  lady. 

"  Temple,"  said  Almina,  remonstrantly,  "  you  forget  yoiir 
father." 


78  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  No,  I  don't  forget  him,  either.  He  was  as  selfish  and 
as  coarse  at  heart  as  he  could  be,  and  my  mother  knew  it 
too.  My  mother — why,  what  have  I  said  ?  You  n,eedn't 
look  so  shocked,  Miss  Drowdy.  But,  then,  perhaps  you 
were  in  love  yourself  with  father.  I  should  think  you  must 
have  been.  But,  you  see,  you  didn't  have  to  live  with  him, 
so  I  suppose  you  never  found  him  out,  and  he  never  got 
sick  of  you  and  let  you  see  him  just  as  he  was.  Oh,  I 
know  what  men  are." 

Temple  put  her  violin  to  her  shoulder  and  again  began 
"  Dissembling  Love,"  which  she  now  played  through  with  a 
sort  of  wild,  untutored  skill  which  made  her  hearers  feel  as 
if  she  were  playing  on  their  hearts. 


ON    THE    FRENCH    BROAD 

When  she  had  finished  the  piece  Temple  put  the  fiddle 
on  her  knee  again. 

Almina  wanted  to  cry,  and  she  did  not  know  whether  it 
was  the  music  or  the  green  tea  that  affected  her.  And  how 
dreadfully  that  girl  had  just  talked ! 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Temple,  earnestly,  looking  first  at  one 
of  her  guests  and  then  at  the  other — "  I  suppose  that  religion 
is  a  good  thing." 

"  Capital,"  said  Mrs.  Ammidown,  with  a  smile. 

"Yes,"  said  Temple,  "that's  what  folks  say.  I've  tried 
several  times  to  get  it.  I've  been  to  ever  so  many  camp- 
meetings.  I  reckon  my  heart  must  be  as  hard  as  the 
nether  millstone  they  tell  about.  There's  Sally,  she  gets 
religion  almost  as  often  as  she  goes  to  preachin'.  Don't 
you  think  there's  something  mighty  queer  about  religion, 
Mrs.  Ammidown  ?  Now  you  think  you've  got  it,  and  now 
you  think  you  haven't.  It  must  be  a  lot  better  than  love, 
anyway." 

"  Temple  !"  from  Almina. 

"  Ma'am  ?" 

"  Don't  you  think  that  mebby  'twould  be  just  as  well  not 
to — not  to — " 

Poor  Miss  Drowdy  paused,  unable  to  find  the  word  she 
wanted.  For  the  short  time  she  had  been  in  North  Caro- 
lina words  seemed  to  her  unusually  incapable  of  expressing 
what  she  felt. 

"  Not  to  make  light  of  cereous  things,"  quoted  Mrs. 
Ammidown,  with  a  great  appearance  of  soberness. 


8o  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

TemjDle  again  gazed  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  two 
women  with  an  expression  of  great  surprise. 

"  But  I'm  not  making  light,"  she  responded.  "  I've 
tried  awfully  hard  to  get  religion.  I  reckon  it's  the  one 
thing  needful ;  and  that's  the  thing  I'm  after.  Sometimes  " 
— here  the  girl  bent  forward  to  Mrs.  Ammidown  with  a  sort 
of  beseeching  look  in  her  face  and  attitude — "  when  I'm 
out  riding  alone  among  the  mountains,  and  they're  so  grand, 
so  beautiful,  I  feel  as  if  I  should  die  just  because  they  are 
so  wonderful,  and  my  heart  can't  take  it  all  in,  and  yet  it 
keeps  trying  to  take  it  in,  you  know.  And  I've  often 
thought  that  if  I  could  have  religion,  somehow  I  could  bear 
to  have  the  mountains  and  the  sky  so  beautiful  ;  and  I 
could  bear  to  love  Thimble  and  Yucatan  as  I  do  now — " 

Temple  hesitated;  she  clasped  her  hands  over  her  violin, 
and  the  strings  gave  out  a  low,  melodious  sound. 

"  If  the  world  keeps  on  being  so  magnificent,"  she  con- 
tinued, *'  I  don't  see  but  that  I  shall  have  to  be  religious,  or 
I  shall  go  wild  with  it  all.  It's  when  I'm  alone  with  my 
pony  and  my  dog  that  I — that  I  suffer  most  with  my  heart 
feeling  as  if  it  would  burst,  you  know.  Now,  don't  you 
think  that  religion  would  make  a  difference  ?" 

Mrs.  Ammidown  did  not  respond  at  first.  She  was  look- 
ing with  a  gentle  intentness  at  the  speaker. 

As  for  Almina,  she  also  was  watching  the  girl ;  and  she 
was  thrilled  in  some  unusual  way.  She  wished  that  she 
might  cross  over  to  where  Temple  sat  and  put  her  arms 
about  her.  But  she  did  not  dare  to  do  that.  And  there 
was  a  dreadful  flavor  of  heathendom  in  the  girl's  words. 
Miss  Drowdy  had  never  before  heard  of  any  one  who 
wished  for  religion  for  such  a  purpose.  It  wasn't  proper. 
Almina  was  quite  sure  it  wasn't  proper.  She  must  say 
something. 

"  Temple,"  she  began,  in  a  rather  unsteady  voice,  "  I  do 
hope  you  ain't  got  into  the  wrong  track.  I  never  kncAV  in 
all  my  life  of  anybody's  wanting  religion  for  such  a  reason. 
It  don't  sound  right.     Why  don't  you  ask  your    minister 


ON    THE    FRENCH    BROAD  8l 

about  it  ?  Mebby  he  c'n  throw  a  Httle  Hght.  It's  a  minis- 
ters business  to  throw  light." 

"I  haven't  got  any  minister,"  replied  Temple.  "I 
keep  going  to  preachin'.  Sally  says  if  you  run  kind  of 
short  of  religion  the  thing  to  do  is  to  go  to  preachin'. 
And  I've  shouted  with  'em,  and  I've  gone  forward  for 
prayers." 

As  the  girl  paused  Mrs.  Ammidown  smiled  at  her  ;  then 
she  put  out  her  hand  and  patted  Temple's  fingers,  which 
were  still  clasped  above  her  fiddle. 

"  I  s'pose,"  said  Almina,  with  painful  earnestness — "  I 
s'pose  there  are  ministers  to  Asheville." 

"  Lots,"  replied  Temple.  She  lifted  the  violin  to  her 
shoulder  again,  and  drew  a  little  wail  from  its  strings.  She 
leaned  her  head  back  on  the  wall,  against  which  she  had 
tipped  her  chair. 

"  I  reckon  I'm  a  devilish  hard  case,"  she  remarked, 
"  but  if  I  don't  change  my  mind  I'm  bound  to  get  religion 
sooner  or  later.  I  pray  every  night.  I  really  don't  see  how 
a  fellow  could  live  among  these  mountains  and  not  have  to 
pray." 

Miss  Drowdy  sank  back  in  her  chair.  She  was  shocked 
at  herself  because  she  was  not  really  more  shocked  at 
Temple. 

"That  ain't  the  way  to  talk,"  she  said,  feebly. 

The  girl  was  making  a  sort  of  whispering  noise  with  her 
bow  on  the  strings,  and  her  head  was  bent  as  if  listening. 
But  she  replied, 

"  That's  the  way  I  feel,  and  why  shouldn't  I  talk  so  ?" 

"  But  you  must  pray  not  to  feel  so,"  responded  Miss 
Drowdy. 

"  I  ain't  aiming  to  pray  in  that  line,"  was  the  answer  ; 
and  now  Mrs.  Ammidown  laughed.  She  glanced  deprecat- 
ingly  at  the  other  woman  and  began  to  speak,  but  she 
stopped  immediately,  for  her  words  were  lost  in  the  sound 
that  suddenly  burst  forth. 

It  was  the  dogs  dashing  away  from  the  house,  barking  as 


82  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

they  went.  Yucatan,  lying  near  his  mistress,  growled  in 
a  deep  bass,  but  he  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  lift  his 
head. 

Temple  rose,  and  laid  her  violin  on  the  table. 

"  Somebody  is  coming,"  she  said.  And  no  one  climbed 
this  part  of  the  mountain  who  was  not  coming  to  the  Tem- 
ple residence. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  sat  upright  and  looked  at  her  watch. 

"  I  had  actually  forgotten  to  go  back  to  Asheville !"  she 
exclaimed. 

A  knock  as  if  from  a  whip-handle  came  on  the  door. 
The  dogs  had  stopped  barking,  but  the  Newfoundland  now 
raised  his  head  and  growled  again. 

A  man's  voice  outside  asked, 
.  *'  Is  this  where  the  Crawfords  live?" 

And  directly  Sally  was  heard  saying, 

"  Yes-ir  ;  right  hyar,  suh.     Won't  ye  'light  an'  warm  ?" 

"  Don't  you  open  the  door  !"  cried  Almina,  hurriedly. 
"'Tain't  no  time  for  decent  folks  to  be  round." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  looked  surprised  and  annoyed.  She 
walked  to  the  door  herself,  as  if  she  knew  who  had  come. 
But  Sally  ushered  in  the  new-comer,  who  entered  with  a 
certain  assurance  that  yet  was  not  unpleasant. 

"Richard!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ammidown,  "why  did  you 
come  ?" 

Mercer  stood  just  within  the  room,  with  his  hat  and 
whip  in  his  hand.  He  glanced  all  about  him.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  thick,  short  coat,  corduroy  riding-trousers,  and 
brown  leather  leggings.  He  had  very  long  gauntlet  gloves 
on  his  hands. 

"  I  came  because  I  thought  it  would  be  better  for  you  to 
have  me  ride  back  with  you  than  for  you  to  ride  alone,"  he 
answered. 

"  But  how  did  you  know  where  to  find  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  easy  enough.  The  groom  who  saddled  your  horse 
told  me  that  Miss  Crawford  had  come  for  you.  After  that, 
of  course,  I  could  find  where  Miss  Crawford  lived  on  these 


ON    THE    FRENCH    BROAD  83 

mountains.      Now,  perhaps,   you   will  present  me   to  the 
ladies,  Laura." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  presented  him.  Temple  bowed  dis- 
tantly ;  Miss  Dowdy  rose  and  shook  hands. 

"  We  were  just  wishing  for  a  minister,"  said  Mrs.  Ammi- 
down, with  a  hint  of  mischief  in  her  smile,  "  and  lo  !  here 
comes  one." 

Upon  this  Temple  gazed  intently  at  the  man  now  sitting 
at  her  hearth. 

"  Is  it  true ?"  she  asked.    "  Are  you  a  minister?" 

Mercer  turned,  and  met  the  simple,  direct  glance. 

"Yes,"  he  answered. 

Temple  pulled  her  chair  somewhat  nearer.  She  was  not 
in  the  full  light  of  the  fire,  which  was  flaring  with  pine 
knots ;  but  Mercer  was  in  the  full  light. 

"  I  am  surprised,"  said  the  girl. 

"  But  why  ?"  asked  Mercer.  His  mind  was  already  stir- 
ring with  a  piercing  kind  of  interest. 

"  I  don't  know  why,"  replied  the  girl ;  "  but "  (hesitating) 
"  I  reckon  it's  on  account  of  your  looking  so  much  like  a 
gentleman." 

Miss  Drowdy  flushed,  but  there  was  no  added  color  on 
Temple's  face. 

"  But  don't  you  think  a  minister  can  be  a  gentleman  ?" 
asked  Mercer. 

"  Maybe  it's  possible,'  was  the  reply,  "  but  it  isn't  usual 
'round  here." 

Temple  really  said  "  hyar."  Before  any  response  could 
be  made  to  this  remark,  the  girl  went  on, 

"  And  you  give  preachin's  ?" 

"Yes." 

Temple's  face  showed  a  still  deeper  interest. 

"  I've  been  trying  to  get  religion  for  some  time,"  she  said. 

"I  hope  you  will  keep  on  trying  until  you  do  get  it." 

Mercer  spoke  with  the  utmost  earnestness.  A  glow, 
other  than  that  from  the  fire,  came  to  his  smoothly  shaven, 
strong-featured  face. 


84  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  Oh,"  said  Temple,  "  I'm  bound  to  have  it,  somehow  or 
other.  Sally  seems  to  get  it  easy  enough.  She  says  it 
comes  from  shouting,  and  sometimes  from  spasms.  She's 
had  spasms  so  that  she's  bounded  round  on  the  floor,  and 
only  her  head  and  her  heels  touched  the  planks.  I  sup- 
pose that's  the  power,  isn't  it,  Mr.  Mercer.'"' 

Mercer  knew  that  his  sister  was  looking  at  him,  but  he 
did  not  show  that  he  knew. 

"That's  what  I  call  nervous  excitement,"  he  answered. 

"  But  isn't  it  religion  ?"  in  surprise. 

Mercer's  eyes  were  upon  the  young  girl,  and  his  eyes 
alone  showed  the  unusual  interest  he  felt.  The  glow  had 
faded  from  his  face.  He  sat  perfectly  still,  one  leg  crossed 
on  the  other,  his  gauntleted  hands  clasped  over  his  knee. 
His  somewhat  narrow  face  was  so  calm  that  his  sister 
could  not  restrain  a  secret  feeling  of  admiration,  for  she 
knew  him  well  enough  to  know  that  he  was  not  calm. 

She  used  to  say  to  herself,  in  thinking  of  her  brother 
Richard,  that  she  supposed  it  was  not  in  human  nature  to 
be  both  broad  and  deep.  She  privately  believed  that  there 
never  was  any  one  whose  outlook  was  clearer,  and  at  the 
same  time  more  limited,  than  was  Richard's.  She  consid- 
ered that  her  brother  was  a  specimen  of  a  human  being 
who  had  actually  "  experienced  religion,"  though  person- 
ally Mrs.  Ammidown  was  as  far  away  as  possible  from 
understanding  what  that  phrase  meant. 

Temple  repeated  her  question.  She  could  not  see  that 
the  young  man  was  obliged  to  make  an  effort  to  answer. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  though  it  may  be  the  path  to  it." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  did  not  restrain  a  movement  of  im- 
patience. 

"  Oh,  don't,"  she  exclaimed — "  don't  spoil  this  evening 
by  that  kind  of  talk!  Be  kind  and  reasonable,  Richard, 
and  leave  revivals  to  some  more  appropriate  season." 

"Any  season  is  appropriate  for  the  saving  of  souls,"  was 
the  answer. 

Mercer's  tone  now  had  a  kind  of  vibration  in  it  that  was 


ON    THE    FRENCH    BROAD  85 

a  hint  of  what  the  voice  might  be  when  he  addressed  a 
company.     This  tone  thrilled  Temple.     Her  eyes  dilated. 

"  I  should  think,"  said  the  girl,  speaking  slowly,  "  that  you 
might  be  the  kind  of  man  who  could  scare  the  devil  away." 

No  one  spoke  and  no  one  smiled.  Temple  was  so  deep- 
ly in  earnest  that  it  was  impossible  to  smile. 

In  the  silence  that  followed  she  spoke  again. 

"  I'm  very  glad  you've  come,  Mr.  Mercer,"  she  said,  "for 
the  devil  makes  great  craps  hereabouts.  Sally  says  she  be- 
lieves the  whole  of  Limestone  Township's  given  up  to  the 
evil  one."     She  said  "craps." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  rose  suddenly.  She  walked  to  the 
chair  where  she  had  thrown  her  jacket  and  hat.  As  she 
went  she  caught  sight  of  Miss  Drowdy's  face,  and  she 
began  to  laugh  nervously. 

"  Let  us  go  home  !"  she  exclaimed.  She  put  on  her  hat. 
Temple  had  not  apparently  heard  her ;  she  was  standing, 
and  still  had  her  eyes  fixed  upon  Mercer. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  drew  on  her  jacket.  With  a  movement  as 
if  she  had  changed  her  intention  she  walked  quickly  over  to 
Temple  and  placed  her  arm  lightly  but  caressingly  about  her. 

"  I'm  going  now,"  she  said.  "  Please  stop  thinking  about 
your  soul  for  a  minute,  and  play  some  little  thing  for  me." 

Temple  moved,  glanced  at  her  friend,  and  smiled.  The 
smile  so  changed  her  face  that  the  man  sitting  by  the 
hearth  had  a  curious  notion  that  an  entirely  new  pulse  had 
stirred  somewhere  within  him. 

The  girl  took  her  violin  again.  The  instant  she  had  it 
in  her  hands  her  whole  aspect  changed — just  as  if,  Miss 
Drowdy  thought,  she  had  flung  away  religion,  and  was 
never  going  to  think  of  it  again. 

She  threw  back  her  head,  and  as  she  drew  the  bow 
across  the  strings  she  half  closed  her  eyes.  She  began  to 
play,  and  at  the  same  time  to  sing  in  a  half-voice : 

"A  little  bird  in  the  air 
Is  singing  of  Thyri  the  Fair, 


86  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

The  sister  of  Svend  the  Dane; 
And  the  song  of  the  garrulous  bird 
In  the  streets  of  the  town  is  heard, 

And  repeated  again  and  again." 

With  the  last  two  or  three  bars  she  made  a  few  sliding 
motions  across  the  room,  keeping  time  to  the  peculiar  lilt 
of  the  music. 

"  Oh,  thank  you !  thank  you  !"  cried  Mrs.  Ammidown. 
"  Now  we  are  going.  Good-night,  Miss  Drowdy.  Good- 
night, Temple.  I  shall  come  and  see  about  Thimble," 
and  the  woman  hurried  from  the  room. 

Mercer  shook  hands  formally  with  the  two  whom  he  was 
leaving.  He  had  a  way  of  closely  holding  the  hand  and 
bending  over  it.  When  he  raised  his  head  and  looked  at 
Temple  as  he  thus  bade  her  good-night,  the  fact  that  im- 
pressed him  most  was  that  he  could  not  formulate  a  dis- 
tinct opinion  about  her.  And  it  was  his  habit  to  formulate 
distinct  opinions  concerning  people  and  things. 

As  the  brother  and  sister  rode  slowly  down  the  moun- 
tain towards  the  highway  they  did  not  speak  for  a  long 
time.  When  they  had  started  Mrs.  Ammidown  had  said, 
questioningly, 

"  Well,  Richard  ?" 

And  Mercer  had  turned  to  her  and  responded, 

"  Well,  Laura  ?" 

After  that  the  woman  resolved  to  keep  silence. 

Up  in  the  log-house  Almina  had  risen  to  her  feet.  She 
said  she  had  noticed  that  there  was  no  lock  on  the  door 
of  her  room,  the  door  that  led  right  outside. 

Temple  recommended  that  her  guest  have  Yucatan  with 
her.  Miss  Drowdy  replied  that  she  didn't  know  which 
she'd  rather  have  in  her  room,  a  burglar  or  that  great  dog. 

Temple  made  no  reply.  She  was  playing  her  fiddle 
again,  and  dancing  slowly  with  its  strains.  So  Almina  re- 
tired, with  the  feeling  that  the  world  was  a  much  more  re- 
markable place  than  she  had  thought  it  to  be  ;  and  also 


ON    THE    FRENCH    BROAD  87 

with  a  conviction  that  Temple  Crawford  was  going  to  fiddle 
and  dance  all  night.  Perhaps  that  was  the  way  girls  did  in 
this  outlandish  country. 

Though  she  went  to  bed  late,  it  was  impossible  for  Almi- 
na  to  sleep  late  in  the  motning.  Soon  after  sunrise  she  was 
peering  out  of  the  little  windows.  Wreaths  of  mist  were 
curling  slowly  along  the  sides  of  the  distant  mountains,  and 
the  tops  were  hidden.  There  was  no  live  thing  in  sight. 
But  presently  a  rift  of  fog  opened  for  a  moment  and  dis- 
closed a  mule,  with  a  girl  on  its  back,  walking  down  the 
slope  to  the  west.  It  was  Temple,  in  her  slouch  hat,  her  old 
red  skirt,  and  the  velvet  coat  that  had  once  been  her  father's. 

Almina  thought  she  would  go  and  help  get  breakfast. 
She  was  resolved  to  make  herself  useful.  She  started  forth 
strong  in  this  resolve.  She  went  through  the  rooms  until 
she  came  to  the  one  where  the  supper  had  been  eaten  the 
night  before. 

There  was  the  table,  half  cleared  ;  even  the  chairs  had 
not  been  set  back.  There  was  a  fire  on  the  hearth,  because 
the  logs  put  there  had  not  burned  out.  There  was  no  ap- 
pearance that  betokened  that  there  would  ever  be  a  break- 
fast. 

Almina  stepped  from  the  door,  which  was  open,  towards 
Sally's  cabin.  She  found  that  person  squatting  on  her 
heels  in  front  of  an  immense  fire,  smoking,  and  contem- 
plating the  blaze. 

"  MawninV'  said  Sally,  affably;  "gwine  fur  a  walk?" 

"  No,"  replied  Almina.  Then  she  stood  silent  and  help- 
less. 

The  yellow  woman  smoked,  and  looked  into  the  fire.  She 
did  not  wish  this  intruder  to  enter,  so  she  did  not  ask  her 
to  do  so. 

Miss  Drowdy  was  startled  to  find  that  she  was  fast  be- 
coming ravenously  hungry ;  she  was  startled,  because  she 
feared  that  it  might  be  all  day  before  Sally  would  decide  to 
get  breakfast.  And  in  Hoyt  one  had  breakfast  at  six,  dinner 
at  twelve,  and  supper  at  half-past  five. 


88  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  Where's  Miss  Temple  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Dunno.  Reckon  she's  gone  down  ter  de  Broad  ter 
meet  urp  with  her  young  man." 

"What?" 

Almina's  hair  began  to  rise. 

Sally  repeated  her  words,  with  the  added  information 
that  Miss  Temple's  young  man  was  in  the  habit  of  coming 
down  the  river  from  Asheville  two  or  three  times  a  week 
"  'bout  dis  time  in  de  mawnin'." 

Miss  Drowdy  could  not  mistake  her  duty  now.  She  must 
follow  Temple.  Already  she  had  an  interest  in  the  child. 
And  what  had  she  come  to  North  Carolina  for  if  not  to 
watch  over  the  girl  ? 

"  Which  way  is  the  river  ?" 

Sally  rose  from  her  heels,  came  to  the  door,  and  pointed. 

"  That-a-way,"  she  said. 

Almina  hurried  into  the  house,  and  almost  immediately 
emerged  from  it  with  a  shawl  and  her  best  bonnet  on.  Her 
trunk  had  not  come,  and  she  was  obliged  to  put  on  her 
best  bonnet. 

Sally,  now  standing  at  her  door  and  still  smoking,  saw 
Almina  going  towards  the  river,  holding  up  her  skirts  with 
both  hands,  and  carefully  picking  her  way  over  the  rough, 
wet  ground. 

"  Laws,  miss,  you  ain't  gwine  to  follow  her,  be  yo'  ?"  she 
asked,  in  extremest  surprise. 

Almina  turned. 

"  Yes,  I  be,"  she  answered.     Then  she  went  on. 

She  was  thinking  that  if  Temple  had  a  "  beau,"  and  he 
was  a  decent,  respectable  sort  of  a  man,  there  was  no  rea- 
son why  he  shouldn't  come  to  the  house  in  a  decent,  re- 
spectable way. 

As  she  walked  Almina  found  herself  thinking  that  a  girl 
with  that  kind  of  eyes  would  probably  go  to  the  bad — un- 
less, indeed,  that  kind  of  chin  might  save  her. 

The  sun  was  coming  out ;  that  dense  line  of  mist  over 
the  river  was  lifting,  wavering  lightly  here  and  there.     Be- 


ON    THE    FRENCH    BROAD  89 

tween  these  lines  the  water  sparkled  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away.  And  beyond  all,  framing  in  this  little  spot  in  the 
universe,  were  the  mountains,  with  Pisgah,  king  of  them  all. 

In  spite  of  her  anxiety,  the  scene  had  its  effect  upon  the 
woman  who  had  passed  nearly  all  her  life  on  a  level  bit  of 
ground  in  Massachusetts.  She  was  under  the  influence 
of  a  kind  of  exhilaration  which  she  did  not  understand  came 
from  the  air  and  the  scenery.  She  recalled  Temple's  words 
of  the  evening  before :  that  she  needed  religion  to  help  her 
bear  this  love  and  delight  and  awe. 

Once,  as  the  mists  gave  a  wide  upward  sweep  and  the 
sun  poured  light  on  the  peaks  of  the  Twin  Brothers,  Al- 
mina  involuntarily  paused.  What  was  it  that  she  used  to 
read  about  "  the  strength  of  the  hills  "  ?  And  why  did  she 
have  that  strange  desire  to  recite  some  lofty,  wonderful 
poetry  ?  But  she  knew  no  poetry  of  any  kind.  She  was 
only  a  poor  finite  in  the  presence  of  infinite.  Only  there 
must  be  a  spark  of  glory  in  her  somewhere,  a  spark  that 
was  akin  to  all  this  outward  glory. 

Almina  put  her  hand  over  her  eyes  as  if  to  shield  them, 
though  the  sun  was  behind  her,  A  space  on  the  river  sud- 
denly shone  and  smote  her  gaze.  Into  that  space  there 
came  a  small  white  boat,  with  one  figure  in  it. 

This  was  the  figure  of  a  man,  who  was  rowing  with  long 
strokes,  and  who  was  at  the  same  time  gazing  hard  at  the 
banks  on  the  eastern  side. 

Suddenly  he  drew  in  his  oars  and,  pulling  off  his  cap, 
waved  it  eagerly.  Then  he  immediately  began  rowing 
again. 

Miss  Drowdy  had  now  forgotten  the  scenery,  and  was  as 
resolved  as  any  rigorous  old  duenna  could  be  to  know  what 
was  happening. 

She  grasped  her  skirts  again  in  her  hands,  and  went  trem- 
bling down  the  decline. 

Presently  a  wandering  brier  branch  grasped  her  by  the 
ankle  and  made  her  sit  down  quickly. 

There  was  the  boat,  and  there  was  Temple  calmly  step- 


go  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

ping  into  it,  just  as  if  she  were  doing  the  most  proper  thing 
in  the  world.  And  now  Almina  saw  that  the  girl  carried  a 
green  bag,  which  she  held  carefully. 

Almina  could  never  tell  why,  all  at  once,  her  intention  to 
step  between  Temple  and  her  beau  died  out  of  her  mind. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  the  brier  was  very  firm  and  very 
grasping ;  perhaps  it  was  because  of  something  else.  As 
she  sat  there,  still  held  tightly,  the  mule,  which  had  on  a 
bridle  but  no  saddle,  came  leisurely  up  from  the  river  shore, 
cropping  the  new  springing  grass  as  he  walked. 

In  the  boat  the  young  man  carefully  put  his  guest  in  the 
stern. 

"  You're  awfully  late,"  he  said  ]  "  I've  been  rowing  up  and 
down  here  no  end." 

"  I  reckon  you  were  in  despair,"  remarked  the  girl. 

"  Yes,  I  was." 

"  Have  you  been  swearing  like  a  fiend .?"  asked  Temple, 
looking  smilingly  up  at  her  companion. 

"  Like  a  dozen  fiends,"  was  the  prompt  answer  ;  "  the  air 
has  been  blue." 

The  young  fellow  was  leaning  on  one  oar  and  gazing 
down  delightedly  at  the  face  below  him. 

"That's  right,"  responded  Temple.  "I  don't  care  if  you 
have  been  impatient.  I'm  glad  of  it.  The  last  time  you 
made  me  wait  an  hour.     Did  you  bring  anything  to  eat?" 

The  young  man  knelt  down  and  pulled  a  basket  from 
under  the  seat  and  handed  it  to  Temple,  who  opened  it 
quickly,  selected  a  thick  piece  of  cold  roast  beef  and  a  bis- 
cuit, and  began  to  eat  hungrily. 

"  If  you  had  brought  chicken  I  should  have  sworn  my- 
self," she  said,  in  an  indistinct  voice.  And  she  added,  "  You 
are  just  as  good  as  you  can  be." 

The  young  man  frowned  at  this.  He  felt  that  he  would 
rather  be  called  wicked. 

"  There's  a  pickle  in  the  bottom  of  the  basket,"  he  said, 
gloomily — "  a  large,  long,  fat  one.  You  are  just  hke  any 
other  girl,  Temple  Crawford;  you  love  pickles." 


ON    THE    FRENCH    BROAD  gi 

Temple  drew  forth  the  preserved  cucumber  and  bit  off  a 
piece. 

''  Have  all  your  girls  been  fond  of  pickles  ?"  she  inquired. 
Then,  with  a  haste  that  had  some  confusion  in  it,  she  con- 
tinued, "  But  I  ain't  one  of  your  girls." 

"  No,"  was  the  emphatic  response,  "  you  are  not  one  of 
'em  ;  you  are  my  only  one." 

"  I  understand,"  was  the  rather  enigmatic  rejoinder. 

After  a  few  moments  of  what  might  be  called  concentrated 
eating.  Temple  said, 

"  I»wish  you'd  be  tuning  my  fiddle." 

The  young  man  frowned  again,  but  he  took  the  green 
bag  and  carefully  drew  out  the  instrument. 

He  sat  down  and  snapped  the  strings.  The  boat  was 
rocking  softly  on  the  water  where  the  sunlight  was  lying. 

It  was  a  mild  morning,  like  some  balmy  May  when  May 
is  particularly  kind. 

This  young  fellow  felt  that  it  was  spring,  indeed,  in  his 
veins ;  and  he  showed  this  fact  in  his  countenance,  for  he 
had  one  of  those  interesting  faces  which  can  facilely  reveal 
what  is  in  the  owner's  heart.  He  could  look  love  and  ad- 
miration in  the  most  charming  way.  His  chin  was  a  bit  too 
much  underhung,  but  eventually,  no  doubt,  a  beard  would 
conceal  that  defect.  He  had  full  red  lips,  and  very  white 
teeth,  and  a  hint  of  a  mustache.  His  front  head  also  re- 
ceded somewhat,  but  his  dark  hair  was  curly  and  his  fore- 
head went  up  in  a  peak  each  side,  much  like  the  brow  in 
some  portraits  of  Lord  Byron.  He  was  dressed  in  rough, 
suitable  clothes,  and  the  picturesque  way  he  had  with  his 
necktie  was  also  apparent  in  his  whole  appearance. 

Temple  finished  her  breakfast,  and  brushed  the  crumbs 
from  her  lap  with  a  decisive  movement. 

She  extended  her  hand.  "  Give  me  the  fiddle,"  she 
said,  "  and  get  your  own.     I'm  going  to  learn  a  lot  this 


morning." 


"Are  you?     Well,  you  can't  learn  if  I  don't  teach  you," 
was  the  reply. 


92  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Instead  of  giving  her  the  instrument,  the  young  man  took 
the  hand  and  held  it  closely.  Then  he  bent  down  and 
kissed  it. 

"  It's  odd  how  you  like  to  do  that,"  said  Temple. 

"Odd?"  was  the  sharp  response,  and  the  hand  was 
dropped. 

"Yes,"  went  on  Temple,  unmoved,  "it's  a  curious  thing. 
I've  noticed  that  you  take  my  hand  rather  often,  and  seem 
to  want  to  hold  it.     What  makes  you  ?" 

Mr.  Yale  Boynton  looked  for  an  instant  as  if  he  would 
swear,  as  he  said  he  had  been  sw^earing  before  the  girl 
came.     But  he  thought  better  of  that  inclination. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  be  near  any  one  you — you  care  for  ?" 
he  asked.  His  face  was  red,  and  his  eyes  sparkled  with 
anger. 

"Well,"  reflectively.  Temple  was  going  on  with  the  tun- 
ing of  her  violin,  but  she  paused  in  her  employment.  "  Yes, 
I  do,"  she  went  on ;  "  there  are  two  persons  whom  I  can't 
hug  enough." 

"  Two  }    Oh,  the — "    Boynton  pulled  himself  up  in  time. 

"  You  were  going  to  say  the  devil,"  said  Temple. 

"  Yes,  I  was." 

"  You  may  say  it,"  kindly. 

Boynton's  face  showed  his  confusion  and  indignation. 
This  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  longed  to  be  sentimental 
with  his  companion. 

"Temple  Crawford,  I  do  wish  you  were  a  little  more  like 
other  girls  !"  he  cried. 

"  I  thought  you  approved  of  me  because  I  wasn't  like 
other  girls." 

The  young  man  groaned.  Temple's  brown  hand,  with  the 
ring  on  it,  was  gently  stroking  the  dark  wood  of  her  violin 
as  though  she  were  caressing  it. 

"  I  never  said  I  approved  of  you,"  began  Boynton,  hotly. 
"  I  said  you  drew  me,  you  bewitched  me,  you — you — " 

The  quick-coming  words  were  interrupted  by  Temple's 
laugh. 


ON    THE    FRENCH    BROAD  93 

The  young  man's  voice  sank  to  a  low  tone.  He  gazed  at 
his  companion.  He  was  already  beginning  to  learn  that  he 
had  a  very  effective  way  of  looking  when  he  chose. 

"You  are  cruel,  cruel !"  he  murmured.  "Who  are  those 
two  whom  you  hug  ?" 

"  Those  two  ?     Oh,  my  horse  and  my  dog." 

The  young  man  uttered  an  exclamation  of  thanks. 

Temple  was  contemplating  him  with  great  interest. 

"  You  did  that  so  well,"  she  said,  in  something  like  his 
own  murmur,  "when  you  said  'cruel,  cruel,'  you  know.  It 
made  things  seem  so  interesting,  some  way ;  though  I  can't 
understand  why  it  should  be  interesting  or  agreeable  for  a 
girl  to  hear  herself  called  cruel — cruel  to  a  man,  I  mean. 
Can  you  explain  that,  Mr.  Boynton  ?" 

The  young  man  was  dumb  for  a  moment.  He  thought 
that  he  would  have  known  well  enough  how  to  reply,  if  this 
girl  had  been  talking  mockingly,  with  that  airy  persiflage 
with  which  he  was  even  now  becoming  acquainted  in  soci- 
ety. But  Temple  was  speaking  in  earnest.  There  was 
not  the  least  doubt  about  that.  And  this  fact  bewildered 
Boynton,  and  charmed  him  indescribably  at  the  same 
time. 

She  never  seemed  to  be  moved  in  the  least  by  the  eyes 
he  made  at  her.  He  was  almost  ready  to  believe  that  she 
supposed  it  was  the  habit  of  young  men  to  make  eyes,  as  it 
was  their  habit  to  smoke  cigarettes. 

"  Can  you  explain  that  ?"  she  insisted. 

"  No,  I  can't,"  he  answered. 

"  All  right,  then,"  was  the  instant  response,  "  and  now 
let's  drop  it  and  go  at  '  The  Kerry  Dancing.'  I  want  to 
learn  that.  And  I  wish  you'd  sing  it.  Your  voice  is  very 
small,  but  it  is  sweet,  what  there  is  of  it." 

So  it  happened  that  ]\Iiss  Drowdy,  still  sitting  on  the 
bank  in  her  best  bonnet,  was  aware  of  the  fact  that  two 
violins  were  being  played  upon  in  that  boat,  and  that  a 
tenor  voice  was  singing  with  great  expression.  She  caught 
herself  listenino:  intentlv. 


94 


AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 


"O  the  days  of  the  Kerry  dancing! 

O  the  ring  of  the  piper's  tune  ! 
O  for  one  of  those  hours  of  gladness, 

Gone,  alas  !  like  youth,  too  soon. 
When  the  boys  began  to  gather  in  the  glen  of  a  summer  night, 
And  the  Kerry  piper's  tuning  made  us  long  with  wild  delight. 
O  to  think  of  it,  O  to  dream  of  it,  fills  my  heart  with  tears." 

Suddenly  Temple  dropped  her  bow  and  let  her  violin 
slide  down  from  her  shoulder  to  her  lap.  She  turned  her 
face,  now  pale  and  resplendent,  towards  her  companion. 
Her  lips  quivered ;  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  Don't  let's  play  it  any  more,"  she  whispered.  "It  makes 
me  so  happy — and  so  unhappy  !" 

She  clasped  her  hands.  Young  Boynton  laid  aside  his 
fiddle  so  quickly  that  it  clanged  as  if  hurt. 

He  flung  himself  down  on  his  knees  by  the  girl,  and  put 
one  hand  over  her  clasped  fingers.  His  eyes  were  glowing. 
At  that  moment  he  was  a  magnificent  picture  of  a  youth  in 
love. 

But  Temple  drew  away  as  much  as  she  could  in  that 
small  space. 

"  Don't  shrink  from  me  !  Don't  shrink  from  me  !"  cried 
Boynton,  under  his  breath.  Then  he  whispered,  ardently, 
"  Oh,  how  I  love  you  !    There  never  was  any  one  like  you  1" 

Temple  remained  motionless,  looking  down  at  him  for  an 
instant. 

"  You  take  advantage  of  me,"  she  exclaimed  at  last.  "  It 
was  the  music  and — and — oh,  I  don't  know  what  it  was ! 
Sometimes  I  wish  I  didn't  feel  anything.  Now  get  up  and 
let  us  play  '  Money  Musk.'  " 

"  I  should  think  you  might  smile  at  me  the  least  little  bit 
in  the  world,"  pleaded  Boynton,  "  just  enough  to  keep  me 
alive." 

He  tried  to  speak  lightly  in  his  chagrin,  but  his  voice 
trembled.  And  perhaps  it  was  this  tremor  that  changed 
the  girl's  aspect. 

Her  eyes  softened  as  she  looked  at  him  now.     But,  then. 


ON    THE    FRENCH    BROAD  g5 

if  he  had  only  known  it,  they  did  so  also  for  Yucatan  and 
for  Thimble. 

"  I  want  to  keep  you  alive,"  she  said. 

She  touched  with  the  tip  of  one  forefinger  the  curl  that 
fell  farthest  forward  on  the  young  man's  forehead,  for  his 
hat  was  off.  Then,  as  she  saw  that  he  was  about  to  press 
nearer,  she  said,  quickly,  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  voice, 

"It's  'Money  Musk'  now,  Mr.  Boynton,  and  you  just  re- 
member that  I'm  a  cold-blooded  creature  who  doesn't  know 
anything  about  love.  In  all  the  books  that  I've  read,  ev- 
erybody who  loves  is  unhappy.     Now  !" 

She  drew  her  bow,  and  dashed  into  the  twinkling  time  of 
the  old  tune  she  had  mentioned. 

Meantime  on  the  bank,  among  a  cluster  of  large,  glassy- 
leaved  rhododendrons,  sat  the  lady  from  Massachusetts. 

She  had  ridden  herself  of  the  brier.  But  several  ticks 
had  now  taken  possession  of  her  ankles,  and  were  boring 
actively  into  this  new  flesh. 

"I'm  goin'  to  wait,"  said  Almina,  emphatically — "I'm 
goin'  to  wait  till  she  comes  back ;  'n'  then  I'll  jest  see  what 
she  has  to  say  for  herself." 


VI 

COMING   TO    PREACHING 

Miss  Drowdy  was  a  woman  of  resolution  and  persistence, 
or  she  could  not  have  held  out  during  the  two  interminable 
hours  which  followed.  But  even  interminable  hours  come 
to  an  end. 

The  two  in  that  boat  did  not  row  any;  the  craft  just 
drifted  slowly,  very  slowly,  down  the  stream,  and  they  played 
their  violins  almost  every  moment. 

The  woman  left  her  place  among  the  rhododendrons,  and 
followed  a  few  rods  along  the  shore.  But  she  was  right  in 
her  conclusion  that  they  would  come  back,  that  Temple 
might  land  at  the  long  trunk  of  a  tree  which,  fallen  into  the 
river,  made  a  sort  of  wharf. 

When  the  girl  did  step  upon  the  tree  Miss  Drowdy  walked 
firmly  down  to  meet  her.  She  felt  very  firm,  indeed  ;  in 
fact,  quite  rigid.  She  did  not  smile  in  the  least  when  Tem- 
ple came  close  to  her  and  held  out  her  hand,  saying,  in  her 
melodious,  slightly  drawling  voice, 

"  Good-mawnin'.     Ain't  it  lurvly  out-doors  to-day  ?" 

"  If  that  young  man  wants  to  see  you.  Temple  Crawford, 
why  don't  he  come  to  the  house .?"  asked  Almina. 

"  Oh,  he  does  come,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Do  you  know,"  went  on  the  elder  woman — "  do  you  know 
you've  been  out  with  him  more  than  two  mortal  hours, 
alone  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

The  girl  looked  in  surprise  at  her  companion.  Then  she 
smiled  brightly  as  she  said, 

"I  was  feared  you'd  get  most  bawdaciously  tired." 


COMING    TO    PREACHING  97 

"  You  seen  me,  then  ?" 

"Oh  yes,  of  course.  And  finally  I  begun  to  think  you 
must  be  going  to  stay  till  I  come  back.  Queer  about  it. 
What  did  you  do  it  for?  For  a  long  time  I  thought  you'd 
just  come  to  look  at  the  mountains." 

"  I  knew  your  father,  Temple  Crawford,  and  I  wanted  to 
take  care  of  his  child." 

The  girl  laughed  as  if  greatly  amused. 

"My  father?"  she  exclaimed.  "I've  been  wondering  if 
you  were  in  love  with  him.  He  never  took  the  slightest 
care  of  me  in  his  life.  I've  always  done  what  I  pleased 
every  hour  of  the  twenty-four.     Were  you  in  love  with  him  ?" 

She  said  "  lurv  "  instead  of  love.  She  seemed  greatly  in- 
terested in  this  question.  But  she  saw  that  her  companion 
hesitated  about  replying. 

"You  needn't  be  afraid  to  tell  me,"  she  continued,  "but, 
as  for  father,  I  don't  believe  he  ever  loved  anything  in  his 
life." 

Miss  Drowdy  was  trying  to  discover  how  she  had  so  sud- 
denly and  completely  lost  control  of  the  situation.  She 
wondered  if  it  were  because  she  had  had  no  breakfast  and 
was  so  faint. 

"  I — I  was  interested  in  your  father,"  she  began. 

Temple  suddenly  put  her  arms  about  the  woman  who 
walked  by  her  side,  and  whom  in  her  young  vigor  she  had 
an  impulse  to  protect. 

"Then  I'm  sorry  for  you,"  said  the  youthful,  attractive 
voice. 

Bewildered,  invincibly  drawn  to  this  girl,  Miss  Drowdy 
tried  to  get  herself  in  hand.  If  it  had  only  been  so  that  she 
could  have  had  a  cup  of  coffee  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
could  have  done  better. 

"You  ain't  respectful,"  she  began. 

"Oh,  don't  bother  about  that,"  said  Temple.  "I  respect 
you,  anyway.     Anybody's  got  to  respect  you." 

Almina  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  that  young  man,"  she  said. 


g8  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  I've  got  to ;  it's  my  duty,  you  see.  Be  you  engaged  to 
him  ?" 

"  Oil  no,"  with  a  laugh. 

"Are  you  goin'  to  be  engaged  to  him  ?" 

"  I  reckon  not.  I  reckon  I'm  not  the  kind  of  girl  to  be 
in  love.  And  I  s'pose  a  girl's  got  to  be  in  love  to  be  en- 
gaged, hasn't  she?" 

"  She  ought  to  be." 

Miss  Drowdy  was  very  positive  on  this  subject.  Like 
most  old  maids,  she  believed  in  love,  and  could  not  reconcile 
herself  to  thinking  of  marriage  as  a  bargain. 

"  Two  or  three  times  I've  kind  of  had  a  notion,"  said 
Temple,  "  that  I  was  in  love  with  Yale  Boynton  ;  but,  gen- 
erally speaking,  I'm  plumb  sure  I  ain't." 

"  Oh,  dear,"  said  Miss  Drowdy,  "  then  I  wish  you'd  stop 
goin'  out  in  a  boat  like  that  with  him.  Is  he  a  likely  young 
man  ?" 

"I  don't  know.     Likely?" 

"Yes;  respectable  'n' — 'n'  scrabblin'.  Can  he  git  a  good 
livin'  ?  'n'  would  he  be  a  good  provider,  do  you  think  ?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Has  he  got  religion  ?     Is  he  pious  ?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"What  do  you  know  about  him  ?" 

"  Not  a  thing,"  was  the  frank  answer. 

"Merciful  sakes  !     How'd  you  git  acquainted  with  him?" 

"  Why,  I  had  my  violin  down  by  the  Broad  one  day  last 
summer,  and  this  fellow  came  along  in  his  boat;  and  he  had 
a  violin  and  was  playing  it.  And  he  stopped  and  spoke  to 
me.  After  we  had  talked  a  little  he  came  ashore.  I  found 
he  could  play  a  lot  better  than  I  could,  so  I  asked  him  to 
teach  me.  He  came  to  the  house  sometimes.  But  it's  ever 
so  much  nicer  to  be  on  the  river.  Of  course  I  didn't  see 
him  in  the  winter.     He  went  away  somewhere." 

Here  the  girl  paused. 

Again  Almina  was  shocked  because  she  was  not  more 
shocked. 


COMING   TO    PREACHING 


99 


"  And  he  makes  love  to  you  ?" 

"  Sometimes  —  at  least,  that  is  what  you'd  call  it,  I 
reckon." 

"  Then  the  end  of  it  '11  be  that  you'll  love  him — if  he  don't 
give  up." 

Temple  paused  in  her  walk  ;  her  companion  stopped  also. 

"Love  him?"  repeated  the  girl,  with  just  a  perceptible 
emphasis  on  the  pronoun. 

She  gazed  off  at  the  mountains,  her  face  becoming  softly 
illuminated ;  her  lips  closed  with  an  almost  passionate 
curve. 

Looking  at  her  now,  Almina  was  dimly  conscious,  woman 
though  she  was,  of  that  strange  and  subtle  attraction  of  mere 
sex  which  is  in  some  women  so  greatly  developed. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  assume  that  only  men  are  aware  of  this 
attraction,  this  mystery  for  which  there  seems  no  explanation. 
That  woman  child  who  is  born  into  the  world  possessing 
this  power  draws  to  her  unconsciously.  If  she  be  good  we 
yield  unresistingly ;  if  she  be  bad  we  make  a  fight,  but  we 
generally  yield  all  the  same  in  the  end  —  unless  we  run 
away. 

Temple  turned  suddenly  towards  her  friend  ;  she  put  her 
arm  again  about  Almina's  waist. 

"  It  seems  so  ridiculous  to  talk  of  love,"  she  said.  "Didn't 
I  tell  you  I  am  cold-blooded.?  I  can  imagine  friendship 
and  affection,  but  I  don't  understand  anything  else." 

Miss  Drowdy's  look  expressed  her  astonishment. 

"  I  guess  you  ain't  in  earnest,"  she  said. 

"  I  am." 

"Then  I  guess  you  ain't  ever  seen  your  face  in  the  glass," 
was  the  impressive  response. 

Temple  laughed  ;  she  passed  one  hand  quickly  from  her 
forehead  down  to  her  chin. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  she  said. 

"  Mebby  you'll  find  out  some  time,"  answered  the  other. 

The  two  had  reached  a  path  that  led  from  the  Frady  farm 
through  the  Crawford  estate.     There  were    no   real   roads 


lOO  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

hereabouts  ;  but  these  trodden  ways  went  here  and  there 
over  the  mountains.  And  frequently  they  were  ob- 
structed by  trees  which  had  fallen  and  were  hardly  ever 
removed.  People  jumped  these  trees  or  climbed  over  them, 
or  went  around  them. 

At  this  moment,  a  little  ways  down  the  path,  a  horse  was 
just  jumping  over  a  fallen  black  oak.  The  horse  bore  a  man 
on  his  back,  and  this  man  swung  off  his  cap,  cantered  up, 
and  dismounted. 

It  was  Mrs.  Ammidown's  brother,  and,  seen  now  in  the 
daylight,  he  bore  that  resemblance  to  his  sister  that  a 
face  carved  in  marble  might  bear  to  one  painted  in  rich 
colors. 

It  was  a  curious  thing  that  when  Mercer  spoke  his  voice 
might  make  you  think  he  possessed  a  warm  opulence  of 
nature  which  did  not  betray  itself  in  his  face — at  least,  not 
ordinarily. 

The  man  had  seen  these  two  while  he  was  at  some  dis- 
tance along  the  path,  and  he  had  hurried  his  horse,  making 
him  leap  as  he  would  have  made  him  leap  had  the  barrier 
been  twice  as  high. 

He  now  walked  by  Miss  Drowdy's  side,  and  his  horse  fol- 
lowed him  as  a  dog  follows.  This  animal  had  not  belonged 
to  Mercer  for  five  years  and  been  his  daily  companion  with- 
out learning  many  things. 

Mercer  glanced  across  the  elder  woman  and  said  to 
Temple, 

"I  was  going  to  call  on  you  this  morning.  My  sister 
thinks  there's  a  building  used  as  a  school-house  on  your 
farm,  Miss  Crawford.  If  there  is,  I  shall  preach  in  it  as 
soon  as  I  can  let  the  people  know." 

"Oh,  shall  you?" 

Temple's  eyes  grew  bright  with  her  interest. 

Mercer  looked  at  her  longer  than  was  necessary.  She 
met  his  eyes  with  a  fearless  expression  of  asking  and  longing. 

"Perhaps you,  at  ie^st,  can  tell  us  something,"  she  said,  in 
a  fervent  voice. 


COMING    TO    PREACHING  lOI 

She  had  the  effect  of  bending  towards  him  as  she  went  on, 
though  in  reality  she  maintained  her  upright  position. 

"  You  know  we  are  told  to  seek  and  we  shall  find,  Mr. 
Mercer.  Now  it  seems  to  me  that  I  have  been  seeking 
all  my  life.  Only  I  have  never  found — never.  Shall  I  find, 
Mr.  Mercer?  It  isn't  that  I'm  not  happy — don't  think  that. 
That  would  be  a  lie.  It's  just  that  I'm  too  happy.  Yes,  too 
happy.  You  see,  just  to  be  alive  here  with  these  mountains 
all  the  time — to  sleep  with  them — to  wake  with  them — to 
have  my  horse  and  my  dog — to  be  alive — to  be  alive !" 

The  girl  had  paused  in  her  walk,  and  the  others  had 
paused  with  her.  Almina  had  a  vague  fear  that  this  was  not 
the  way  any  one  ought  to  talk.  Particularly  was  it  somehow 
wrong  for  a  woman  to  talk  thus.  And  how  could  one  be 
too  happy.''  If  this  happiness  came  on  account  of  having  a 
lover — but,  notwithstanding  the  interview  on  the  river,  Al- 
mina, romantic  as  she  was,  did  not  ascribe  Temple's  words 
to  that  cause. 

Mercer's  thin,  ascetic  face  was  turned  towards  the  girl. 
In  spite  of  the  priest  and  the  monk  in  him,  the  man  in 
him — the  unregenerate  man,  he  would  have  said — thrilled 
strongly. 

Temple,  after  her  pause,  suddenly  added, 

"  It's  because  I  want  to  learn  how  to  bear  it," 

"  I've  often  been  appealed  to  for  help  in  unhappiness,"  re- 
turned Mercer,  "  but  never  in  happiness.  The  poor  wretch- 
es among  these  mountains  don't  come  to  me  with  your  griev- 
ance." 

Temple's  big  soft  hat  was  pushed  back  from  her  forehead. 
She  had  the  baize  bag  holding  the  fiddle  in  one  hand;  the 
other  hand  was  thrust  into  the  pocket  of  the  old  velvet  coat. 

She  was  gazing  with  unfaltering  intentness  at  the  man  be- 
fore her.  Just  behind  Mercer  his  horse  had  stopped.  The 
animal  had  taken  a  mouthful  of  leaves  from  an  oak  shrub 
and  was  chewing  them,  a  leaf  or  two  protruding  from  his 
loosely  moving  lips  as  his  benevolent,  equine  face  showed 
above  his  master's  shoulder. 


102  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Mercer  felt  a  sort  of  undefined  emotion,  something  that  he 
was  quite  sure  he  must  fight. 

"The  poor  wretches,"  said  Temple;  "yes,  I  know  that's 
what  they  are.  They  are  like  vermin  among  my  great 
mountains.  They  don't  care  for  the  hills,  nor  for  the  sky, 
nor  for  anything  but  whiskey  and  bacon." 

Mercer  stepped  forward  as  if  with  an  uncontrollable  move- 
ment ;  and  it  was  with  an  uncontrollable  movement  that  he 
put  his  hand  lightly  on  Temple's  arm.  His  eyes  burned,  but 
his  pale  features  were  quiet. 

"It's  my  work  to  teach  them  to  care  for  something  besides 
whiskey  and  bacon,"  he  said,  his  impressive  voice  seeming 
to  make  the  still,  sweet  air  quiver  in  response  to  an  uncon- 
querable purpose. 

The  two  looked  at  each  other  for  an  instant. 

Then  Temple  said,  her  eyes  shining  and  her  voice  un- 
steady, , 

"  That's  a  noble  work !  But  you  never  can  teach  them. 
You  see,  I  know  them  ;  I  live  here." 

Mercer  drew  himself  up.  He  made  a  slight  movement 
as  one  might  who  is  settling  armor  upon  himself  for  a 
contest. 

"  I  know  them,  too,"  he  answered,  "  and  they  are  men  and 
women  ;  therefore  to  be  moved  in  some  way." 

He  did  not  linger.  He  drew  back  a  step  for  the  two 
women  to  pass,  taking  off  his  hat  as  he  did  so. 

He  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  along  the  path  and  out  of 
sight  among  the  trees. 

That  afternoon  he  knocked  at  the  door  of  his  sister's  room 
at  Battery  Park. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  was  half  lying  in  a  long  chair.  She  was 
holding  a  book  in  her  hand. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  I  knew  your  step,  so  I  knew  I  needn't 
rise.  What's  the  matter  ?  If  you  wouldn't  think  me  irrev- 
erent I  should  say  you  look  as  if  you  had  found  the  Holy 
Grail." 

"No,  no,"  said  Mercer,  who  was  standing  in  front  of  his  sis- 


COMING   TO   PREACHING  103 

ter  and  looking  down  at  her  as  if  trying  to  bring  his  thoughts 
to  her  exclusively. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  shut  her  book.  She  touched  the  spring 
which  changed  her  couch  into  a  chair. 

"It  is  impossible  to  lounge  near  anything  so  upright  as 
you,  Richard,"  she  said.  "  If  I  could  change  my  backbone 
into  a  steel  column,  I  suppose  you'd  approve." 

"You  are  as  nature  made  you," said  Mercer,  absently. 

"  Therefore,  let  me  pass  for  a  woman,"  was  the  response. 
"  Did  you  get  your  school-house  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"Then  now  you'll  canvass  for  the  Lord  in  Buncombe 
County." 

There  was  more  pity  than  mockery  in  the  woman's  voice. 
There  was  affection  in  the  way  she  leaned  forward  now  and 
took  her  brother's  hand. 

He  bent  over  her  and  smoothed  her  hair  with  his  other 
hand,  but  he  did  it  absently.  As  he  did  not  speak,  his  sis- 
ter went  on, 

"  It's  a  pity  you  don't  belong  in  this  century,  Richard. 
One  of  those  old  flesh-mortifying,  sin-tormented  monks  must 
be  occupying  your  body.     Oh,  it's  a  great  pity  !" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Laura  ?  You  don't  know  what  you're 
talking  about.  I'm  doing  the  Lord's  work.  Is  there  any- 
thins:  orreater  than  to  save  souls  ?  What  is  all  the  world 
compared  with  one  poor  sinner  saved  V 

Mrs.  Ammidown  made  a  little  sound  like  an  expostulatory 
moan. 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  are  in  earnest,"  she  exclaimed.  "  And 
it's  dreadful  to  be  really  in  earnest.  You  ought  to  be  able 
to  move  the  foundations  of  the  world.  Perhaps  you  will 
move  them." 

Mercer  made  no  reply  to  this  remark.  He  went  and 
stood  beside  the  window,  looking  out.  He  was  accustomed 
to  his  sister's  worldliness.  He  deplored  it,  but  he  was  too 
much  used  to  it  to  be  really  shocked.  He  often  told  him- 
self that  he  sinned  much  in  not  being  more  moved  by  her 


104  AGAINST   HUMAN    NATURE 

sin.  He  knew  he  tolerated  sin  in  her,  and  he  never  meant 
to  cease  fighting  evil  in  himself  and  in  everybody  else.  He 
often  wished  that  wickedness  was  visible,  incarnate,  and  he 
could  attack  it  with  a  scourge.  He  had  many  times  been 
conscious  that  he  longed  to  take  a  handful  of  cords  and  flay 
himself  for  his  sinfulness.  He  wished  that  he  could  believe 
in  the  efficacy  of  such  flayijig,  and  of  hair  shirts,  and  of  peas 
in  one's  shoes.  If  he  had  been  born  a  few  centuries  earlier 
he  could  have  had  faith  in  such  measures. 

"  I  suppose  that  the  Miss  Crawford  out  there  is  the  one 
you  wrote  me  about — the  one  who  saved  you  from  drown- 
ing?" at  last  said  Mercer,  without  turning  from  the  window. 

"Yes." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  was  too  wise  to  make  any  remark  or  to 
ask  a  question.     She  knew  her  brother  very  well. 

"  She  seems  an  unusual  sort  of  girl,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Ammidown,  once  more. 

"  I  saw  her  to-day  again." 

"  Oh,  did  you  .''  Did  she  say  how  the  pony  is  getting 
on?" 

"No." 

"  I'm  going  to  see  the  pony  before  dark." 

The  speaker  drew  out  her  watch  and  looked  at  it.  There 
was  a  smile  on  her  face  as  she  glanced  at  her  brother's 
back.  And  there  was  a  little  wonder  and  surprise  also. 
For  this  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  heard  Richard  say 
even  as  much  as  this  about  a  woman. 

"It  appeals  to  one  to  see  a  girl  like  that  in  such  a 
place,"  now  remarked  Mercer. 

"  I  think  it  does,"  was  the  response.  "  I'd  like  to  take 
her  with  me." 

Mercer  turned  with  a  quick  gesture  of  dissent. 

"  You  would  make  her  a  worldling,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  dear  !"  exclaimed  the  woman.  "  Does  it  never 
strike  you  that  you  are  ridiculous,  Richard  ?  Who  talks  of 
worldlings  in  these  days  ?" 

"  I  talk  of  them,"  was  the  severe  answer.     "  It's  my  mis- 


COMING    TO    PREACHING  105 

sion  to  try  to  save  them.  These  poor  creatures  in  the  coun- 
try here  are  just  as  much  worldlings  as — " 

"  As  I  am,  Richard,"  interrupted  his  sister.  "  But  how- 
do  you  classify  Temple  Crawford  V 

"  I  don't  know — I  don't  know.     She  says  she  longs  for 

religion  because — just  think  of  it — because  she's  so  happy. 

It's  only  the  miserable  usually  who  want  God  to  comfort 

them." 

"  '  That  soul  is  dumb 

Who,  woe  being  come — '  " 

"Don't !"  cried  Mercer,  breaking  in  upon  his  sister's  quo- 
tation. "  Religion  is  nothing  but  poetry  or  literature  to  you. 
I  pray  it  may  be  something  more  to  that  girl." 

There  came  that  peculiar  note  into  the  man's  voice. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Ammidown,  "that  the  soul  of  that 
girl  isn't  worth  any  more  than  the  soul  of  a  poor  white,  is 
it?" 

Mercer's  brow  contracted  somewhat. 

"  No,"  he  answered ;  "  a  soul  is  a  soul  in  God's  sight." 

The  woman  flung  out  her  hand  in  a  gesture  of  contempt. 
She  evidently  restrained  a  desire  to  say  some  stinging  thing. 
When  she  did  speak  a  moment  later  she  seemed  perfectly 
good-natured. 

"You'll  find  strange  soil  to  work  on  in  Temple's  char- 
acter. She  is  the  most  emotional  and  the  most  unconven- 
tional being  I  ever  met.  She  is  very  ignorant.  She  learned 
to  read  somehow — she  never  exactly  knew  how.  She  has 
told  me  about  it.  Her  father  didn't  care.  She  went  to 
school  a  few  months  in  that  little  hut  where  you're  going  to 
preach.  You  can  imagine  what  curious  kind  of  teaching 
there  was  there.  Her  whole  heart  has  been  given  to  her 
horse  and  her  dogs,  and  the  mountains  and  rivers.  Serious- 
ly, Richard,  I  sometimes  think  it's  a  wise  thing  to  give  one's 
heart  in  that  way ;  human  beings,  you  know,  are  not  worthy 
to  receive  much." 

"  But  her  father  ?"  questioned  Mercer. 


I06  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

He  seemed  too  interested  to  sit.  He  had  moved  away 
from  the  window,  and  was  walking  here  and  there  about  the 
room.  His  face,  however,  was  set  in  that  resolute  calm  in 
which  he  had  drilled  it. 

"  Oh,  her  father,"  said  Mrs.  Ammidown,  with  another  gest- 
ure— "  he  was  an  indolent,  intellectual,  unworthy  scamp.  I 
call  him  a  scamp,  though  I  don't  suppose  he  ever  committed 
a  crime.  He  used  to  read,  and  smoke,  and  stroll  about  the 
mountains  in  a  broad  hat  and  velvet  coat,  with  a  mustache 
like  a  musketeer's.  He  had  the  peculiar,  misty,  cloudy,  ab- 
sent look  of  an  opium  eater.  I'm  sure  he  was  an  opium 
eater.  Possibly  that  was  why  he  cared  not  in  the  least  that 
his  daughter  should  be  educated.  He  did  get  her  food  to 
eat,  because  he  got  himself  food,  I  suppose,  and  allowed  her 
to  share  it.  But  he  hardly  provided  her  with  clothes.  If 
she  had  been  a  boy  she  would  have  had  only  his  cast-off  gar- 
ments. As  it  is,  she  wears  his  coats  now.  And  she  is  actu- 
ally picturesque  in  them,  too — which  speaks  volumes  for  her 
capabilities  in  that  line." 

'•'  But  what  supports  her  ?  She  must  be  obliged  to  have 
some  money,  if  ever  so  little,  living  there.  We  all  have  to 
have  some  money." 

"  Well,  I  fancy  you'd  be  surprised  if  you  knew  how  litde," 
was  the  reply.  "  But  there  were  two  or  three  hundred  dol- 
lars left  in  a  bank  here  in  Asheville  when  Mr.  Crawford  went 
to  Montana,  where  he  died.  Temple  thinks  that  sum  a  fort- 
une. But  she  never  has  had  money  to  use,  so  she  very  rare- 
ly gets  any  of  this.  Sally  runs  the  farm.  Sally's  no '  triflin' ' 
yellow  woman,  I  assure  you.  She  is  energy  in  the  flesh  when 
she  pleases.  She  follows  the  plough,  she  makes  that  evil 
lout  of  a  Bartholomew  work.  She  hasn't  any  system — she's 
a  sort  of  wild  woman,  in  a  way  ;  but  she  brings  things  to 
pass.  You  should  see  her  walking  up  the  mountain  with  a 
basket  of  picked-up  wood  on  her  head.  I  envy  her.  Why, 
she  might  be  Boadicea  or  Semiramis,  only  I  suppose  neither 
of  those  women  carried  wood  on  the  head.  And  Sally  is  a 
mine  of  old,  strange  stories  that  thrill  and  rouse  one.     Tem- 


COMING   TO    PREACHING 


107 


pie  is  actually  intimate  with  her.  They  talk  for  hours  to- 
gether. Temple  knows  that  wonderful,  savage,  generous 
nature,  and  loves  it.  I've  had  glimpses  into  Sally's  soul, 
glimpses  lurid  and  stirring  and  tempestuous.  It's  really 
Sally  who  has  brought  up  the  child.  And  she  has  told  her 
curious  tales  ;  she  has  imbued  her  with  something  mysteri- 
ous and  Oriental.  My  dear  brother,"  looking  up  with  a 
smile  into  the  man's  face,  "  if  you  begin  a  study  of  Tem- 
ple Crawford  I  don't  know  whether  to  congratulate  you 
or  commiserate  you.  She  says  she  wants  religion.  She 
has  been  with  Sally  to  many  preachings.  She  has  seen 
Sally  converted  several  times.  The  process  is  attended 
with  groanings  and  shoutings  and  contortions,  and  it  is  a 
process  which  seems  to  have  to  be  repeated  ;  it  doesn't 
last  even  the  seven  years  that  vaccination  is  said  to  hold 
good." 

"  You  know  very  well  that  I  don't  consider  that  groanings 
and  contortions  make  religion,"  said  Mercer,  "  though  some- 
times the  coming  of  salvation  may  be  accompanied  by  much 
mental  and  consequently  physical  disturbance.  I'm  sure  of 
this,  Laura." 

Again  the  woman  said, "  Oh,  dear !"  as  if  she  had  no  words, 
and  would  not  try  for  any. 

"  But  this  woman,  this  Miss  Drowdy .'"'  asked  Mercer. 
"  How  came  she  here  .'"' 

"Oh,  that's  one  of  Mr.  Crawford's  moves  which  shows 
how  wise  he  was,  and  what  a  shirk.  He  knew  that  Miss 
Drowdy,  once  she  was  here  with  Temple,  would  never  for- 
sake the  child  again ;  that  Temple  would  always  have  a  con- 
scientious friend.  I  suspect  that  he  was  once  a  lover  of  the 
Yankee  woman  ;  very  likely  he  jilted  her ;  but  she  cherishes 
and  adores  his  memory,  you  may  be  sure.  And  she'll  cher- 
ish his  daughter.  Yes,  it  takes  the  thoroughly  selfish  man  to 
make  such  a  move  as  that." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  now  rose  from  her  chair.  She  went  to 
the  glass  and  passed  her  hands  over  her  face,  as  if  to  rub 
off  the  impress  of  thought. 


loS  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  If  you'll  excuse  me,  Richard,"  she  said,  "  I'll  get  ready 
to  ride  out  there  now.  Temple  will  never  forgive  me  if  I 
neglect  her  pony." 

Mercer  walked  to  the  door.  "  I  wish,"  he  said,  looking 
back,  "that  you  would  not  talk  in  your  mocking  way  before 
the  girl.     It's — it's  really  horrible  of  you." 

"  But  I  won't — I  won't ;  I  give  you  my  word,"  w^as  the 
quick  reply.  "  When  do  you  have  a  meeting  in  that  school- 
house  .'"' 

"  To-morrow  night.  I've  been  riding  about  among  those 
people,  talking  with  them  and  giving  notice.  And  I  shall 
take  in  the  other  side  of  the  mountain  and  towards  Busbee 
to-morrow.  It's  moonlight  now,  and  they're  always  glad  to 
go  to  preaching,  you  know.  It's  a  kind  of  excitement  and 
pastime  to  them.  I  know  that  as  well  as  you  can  tell  me, 
Laura.  But  I  want  to  get  their  attention  ;  I  want  to  make 
them  understand  that  religion  means  a  good  many  things  : 
that  they  shall  stop  drinking  whiskey ;  stop  beating  their 
wives  and  putting  them  to  the  plough  ;  stop  swearing ;  stop 
their  brutish  —  no,  not  brutish,  but  human  licentiousness. 
I'm  going  to  help  them.  I  affirm  to  you,  before  God,  Laura, 
that  I'm  going  to  help  them." 

The  man's  voice  vibrated  with  the  man's  earnest  soul. 
His  eyes  flamed. 

Laura  Ammidown,  "  caviller,"  as  he  would  have  called 
her,  vibrated  in  response.  Her  face  flushed  a  little. 
She  walked  across  the  room  and  caught  her  brother's 
hand. 

"  Dear  Richard,"  she  said,  just  above  a  whisper,  "  at  least 
you  are  sincere,  and  sincerity  goes  a  great  way.  I  shall  be 
at  the  preaching  to-morrow  night." 

"  No,"  said  Mercer,  "why  should  you  go  ?" 

"  Don't  fear,"  she  returned,  "  I  sha'n't  scoff.  Indeed,  I 
can't  scoff  when  you  really  get  under  way." 

The  next  evening  by  eight  o'clock,  though  Mercer  him- 
self had  not  yet  arrived,  the  meeting  might  be  said  to  be 
"  under  way  "  most  decidedly,  in  one  sense.     The  little  log 


COMING    TO    PREACHING  IO9 

school-house  was  crowded ;  nearly  all  the  men  had  long,  yel- 
low beards  and  rough,  uncut  locks.  Their  eager,  demand- 
ing eyes  were  fixed  on  the  door,  through  which  the  preach- 
er was  to  enter ;  for  the  preacher  was  late.  They  wore  wool 
shirts,  and  their  rough  trousers  sagged  from  the  hips.  They 
had  not  taken  their  seats,  but  were  lounging,  in  more  or 
less  striking  attitudes,  about  the  room.  Every  few  moments 
some  one  would  take  a  big  piece  of  light-wood  from  the 
heajD  by  the  hearth  and  throw  it  upon  the  fire.  This  fire 
filled  the  cabin  with  a  glowing,  yellow  flare.  The  men  spat 
into  the  coals.  They  did  not  talk  much.  There  were  more 
women  than  men,  but  these  were  seated  ;  they  were  too 
weary  to  spend  any  energy  in  moving  about.  And  they  were 
not  good-looking,  like  so  many  of  the  men  ;  they  were  wrin- 
kled and  sallow  and  toothless.  Their  eyes  were  dull.  They 
passed  their  lives  in  bearing  children  ;  in  cooking  "  hog  and 
hominy  "  ;  in  plodding  along  mountain  furrows  behind  the 
plough ;  in  smoking  in  some  rare  moment  of  rest  by  the 
chimney ;  in  rolling  a  lump  of  snuff  lovingly  beneath  a 
loose  under-lip  ;  in  drinking  illicitly  made  whiskey.  These 
also  wanted  religion.  Religion  to  them  was  like  a  sort  of 
whiskey  that  was  not  so  common  as  what  they  kept  in  a  jug 
in  some  corner. 

And  black  men  and  women  were  there,  too.  There 
was  a  kind  of  scintillating  animation  in  their  faces;  a 
sort  of  a  shine,  as  of  light  glancing  on  polished  black 
wood. 

Of  course,  the  cabin  door  was  open.  The  brilliance  of 
the  burning  fat  wood  mingled  with  the  cold,  bright  moon- 
light that  was  lying  in  long  bars  wherever  it  found  an  open- 
ing among  the  trees. 

The  smell  of  spring  was  filling  the  night  with  fragrance. 
There  was  all  about  among  the  woods  the  odor  of  the  arbu- 
tus, which  was  now  past  its  prime.  Frogs  were  peeping 
in  hollow  places  where  water  stood.  There  was  no  wind. 
The  trees  barely  moved  their  leafing  twigs. 

Two  or  three  times  a  big  negro  sitting  behind  had  struck 


no  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

the   first    notes    of  a   hymn    and   had  been  joined   by  the 
others. 

They  were  now  rolling  out  the  words : 

"  Be  my  themer  I  shall  last, 
Jesus,  Jesus  crucified  !" 

The  syllables  went  roaring  outward  into  the  night,  and 
then  died  away. 

What  had  those  words  meant  ?  Impossible  to  tell.  Did 
the  singers  know  ? 

Presently  from  outside,  and  coming  constantly  nearer,  was 
heard  a  contralto  voice  singing  strongly : 

* 

"  De  little  chillen's  feet  so  weary!" 

Instantly  the  whole  company  joined  in.  The  very  world 
appeared  to  be  filled  with  the  melody. 

' '  So  weary,  so  weary,  Lord  ! 

De  little  chillen's  feet  so  weary,  Lord  ! 

Call  de  little  chillen,  Lord  ! 
Come  !  Come  !  Little  chillen,  come  to  me  !" 

Before  the  last  line  was  reached  Temple  Crawford  ap- 
peared in  the  doorway.  She  had  on  the  big  hat  and  the 
velvet  coat.  Her  hands  were  in  the  coat  pockets  ;  her  head 
was  thrown  back  ;  her  eyes  shone.  She  stood  still,  just  with- 
in the  door,  and  finished  singing.  She  repeated  the  phrase 
"  Come  to  me  "  with  an  abandon  of  fervor  that  made  the 
two  women  behind  her  shiver  with  a  sort  of  fearsome  ec- 
stasy. One  of  these  women,  Laura  Ammidown,  ascribed  this 
ecstasy  merely  to  her  own  susceptibility  to  certain  phases  of 
emotion.  The  other  woman,  Almina  Drowdy,  believed  this 
emotion  to  be  part  of  religion. 

"  Somebody  '11  be  sure  to  experience  to-night,"  she  thought 
with  exultation. 

She  looked  with  wonder  at  Temple.  She  hoped  that 
some  time  she  should  know  what  to  make  o^that  girl.     She 


COMING    TO    PREACHING  III 

watched  her  as  she  shook  hands  here  and  there  with  those 
horrible -looking  mountain  people.  Almina  felt  that  she 
couldn't  shake  hands  in  that  way.  The  long-legged,  brawny 
men  clustered  around  Temple.  They  asked  her  about  her 
pony;  they  inquired  what  kind  of  craps  she  was  "gwine  to 
make  this  year."  They  recommended  turning  over  "  that 
there  bit  er  land  ter  thur  west."  One  of  these  men,  young, 
with  hair  which  appeared  to  have  been  combed,  and  which 
lay,  sleek  and  yellow,  back  from  his  temples  and  behind  his 
ears,  pressed  bashfully,  but  resolutely,  up  near  to  the  girl. 

Mrs.  Ammidown,  standing  by  the  fire  with  her  elegant 
wrap  now  held  negligently  on  her  arm,  watched  this  young 
man  with  instant  interest.  She  had  never  seen  him  before, 
but  she  was  aware  that  she  liked  him  directly.  It  was  a  dis- 
tinction to  be  clean  and  well  groomed  among  this  "  herd  "  ; 
herd  was  the  term  the  lady  mentally  used. 

This  young  fellow's  forehead  was  very  white,  his  eyes 
clearly  blue  and  transparent,  his  cheeks  tanned.  A  straw- 
colored  mustache  swept  away  in  a  fine  curve  on  either  side 
of  his  upper-lip. 

"You  plumb  promised  me.  Miss  Temple,"  Mrs.  Ammi- 
down heard  him  say,  "that  you'd  let  me  plough  the  west  slope 
with  my  new  oxen.  You  did.  Miss  Temple.  Sally  an'  Bart 
carn't  make  no  headway  ploughin'  of  that  slope.  They  carn't. 
Say  I  may  curm  ter-morrer,  Miss  Temple  ;  say  I  may!" 

Temple  looked  at  him  and  smiled. 

"  When  will  she  learn  not  to  smile  like  that  ?"  Mrs.  Am- 
midown asked  of  herself 

The  young  man  flushed  with  delight. 

"  Now,  Lincoln,"  said  Temple,  "  that's  just  what  I  was 
wanting — your  oxen  for  that  slope,  you  know.  Our  muel 
can't  do  hit.  Sally  was  saying  yesterday  that  if  she  could 
get  Lincoln  Dalvecker's  oxen  to  turn  urp  that  sod,  she  'n' 
Bart  could  make  a  mighty  fine  crap.  I  do  wish  you  would 
come.     We  c'n  swop  work  somehow,  I  reckon." 

The  young  man  gave  a  little  delighted  laugh  which  made 
his  face  charming. 


112  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  I  ain't  aimin'  to  swop  work,"  he  answered.  "  I'll  be 
shore  to  be  there  by  sun-up  ter-morrer." 

"Link  Dalvecker's  allers  in  luck,"  exclaimed  one  man. 
"But  yo'  may  jes'  know,  Miss  Temple,  as  thur  ain't  a  man 
nowhars  on  the  mountings  in  Car'liny  but  'd  jump  at  thur 
chance  to  plough  that  slope.     Now,  be  thur.?" 

The  speaker  turned  towards  the  group  of  men  as  he  put 
the  question. 

There  was  a  laugh  and  a  shout  of  "  Naw  !  nawJ  That's 
thur  gospel  trewth — 'tis  !" 

Even  the  women  joined  in  this,  though  they  did  it  more 
languidly,  having  no  spare  strength  to  put  into  anything. 

Temple  thanked  them  with  a  simple  sincerity.  She  turned 
and  glanced  at  Mrs.  Ammidown  and  Almina  as  if  to  say, 

"These  be  my  mountaineers."  In  another  moment  a 
voice  asked, 

"  Whar's  thur  preacher?  Ain't  we  gwine  ter  have  no 
preachin'  ?  I'll  be  dad-burned  if  I  warnt  no  preacher  ter  be 
foolin'  of  me.  I  curm  to  preachin' ;  I  curm  fur  three  mile 
t'other  side  Busbee  to  git  religion.  My  'oman  tole  me  not 
ter  darst  to  curm  back  'thout  I  brung  religion.     Say,  now !" 

There  was  a  darky  snicker  at  this  in  the  rear  of  the  room. 
But  if  was  hushed  instantly,  as  Mercer  appeared  in  the  door- 
way. 

He  was  dripping  wet,  and  his  face  was  flushed  almost  to 
a  purple  hue. 


VII 
YOUNG   DALVECKER 

Mrs.  Ammidown  advanced  a  step  towards  him,  but  Mer- 
cer motioned  her  back. 

He  walked  into  the  room  and  up  to  the  fire,  standing  back 
to  it. 

"  I'm  sorry  I'm  late,"  he  said.  "  I  started  early  enough, 
but  I  was  detained." 

He  glanced  down  at  his  wet  garments,  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment, as  if  in  doubt  whether  to  make  any  explanation,  then 
he  went  on  as  if  speaking  of  the  most  commonplace  affair. 

"  There  was  a  drunken  fellow  trying  to  cross  the  Broad  in 
a  boat.  Of  course  he  capsized,  and  he  was  too  drunk  to 
swim.  I  had  to  go  in  after  him,  and  then  I  had  to  take 
him  home.  Has  any  one  got  a  hymn-book .''  But  it's  no 
matter.     Enough  of  you  will  know  this." 

And  standing  before  the  fire,  with  the  water  trickling  off 
him  and  making  a  little  pool  at  his  feet,  Mercer  began  to 
sing, 

"  Hail  to  the  brightness  of  Zion's  glad  morning  ! 
Joy  to  the  lands  that  in  darkness  have  lain  ! 
Hushed  be  the  accents  of  sorrow  and  mourning, 
Zion  in  triumph  begins  her  mild  reign." 

For  the  whole  of  the  first  verse  no  one  joined  him.  His 
resonant  and  triumphant  voice  went  on  by  itself.  All  those 
dull,  ignorant,  besotted  faces  were  turned  towards  him,  and 
the  firelight  shone  on  them. 

From  the  moment  he  had  stepped  into  the  room  Mercer 
had  control  of  the  people  within  it.    That  he  had  just  pulled 


114  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

a  man  out  of  the  river,  and  had  come  to  them  without  going 
back  to  change  his  clothes,  had  a  decided  weight  with  every 
one  there. 

Laura  Ammidown  was  angry  with  her  brother,  and  anxious 
about  him,  but  she  was  conscious  of  that  stirring  of  admira- 
tion which  a  recklessness  of  self,  however  absurd,  is  likely 
to  excite. 

When  Mercer  began  the  second  verse,  voice  after  voice 
joined  in  with  fervor,  and  with  strange  pronunciation. 

"  Hail  to  the  brightness  of  Zion's  glad  morning, 
Long  by  the  prophets  of  Israel  foretold  ; 
Hail  to  the  millions  from  bondage  returning  ; 
Gentiles  and  Jews  the  blest  vision  behold." 

Mercer  did  not  go  on  with  the  hymn. 

He  had  heard  his  sister's  thin  but  sweet  soprano  ;  but  he 
did  not  so  much  hear  as  feel  the  contralto  notes  that  filled 
the  cabin  with  magnificent  sound. 

He  knew  that  Temple's  gaze  was  upon  him  in  that  in- 
tense and  hoping  way  which  might  almost  inspire  a  block 
of  wood  to  be  eloquent. 

"Are  you  returning  from  bondage?"  he  asked,  suddenly, 
his  eyes  gazing  over  the  whole  assembly. 

Not  one  among  that  company  w^as  so  stupid  as  not  to 
know  that  "  the  power  "  would  be  displayed  this  evening. 
Dimly,  but  eagerly,  they  felt  the  stirring  of  the  coming  ex- 
citement.    It  was  going  to  be  a  good  meetin'. 

A  strange,  and  what  they  thought  holy,  intoxication  would 
get  them — that  was  it.  It  is  a  singular  fact  that  man  is  an 
animal  that  longs  to  be  intoxicated  in  some  way — to  be 
stirred  beyond  his  normal  condition. 

Mercer's  tall,  broad  -  shouldered  figure  stood  erect  and 
dominant  before  the  fire.  There  was  something  compelling 
in  him.  Even  his  sister  felt  it,  and  could  not  throw  it  off, 
though  mentally  she  scoffed  at  herself  for  her  weakness. 

As  for  Almina,  she  yielded  without  a  struggle  to  the  force 


YOUNG    DALVECKER  I15 

which  she  called  the  spirit  of  God.  It  had  come  down  to 
make  men  flee  from  eternal  wrath, 

Mercer  gazed  about  him.  His  glance  took  in  every  per- 
son. Each  person  felt  that  it  was  to  him,  to  his  very  soul, 
that  this  evangelist  had  come. 

"Are  you  returning  from  bondage?" 

The  preacher  repeated  his  words,  his  voice  knocking  at 
every  heart.  "  From  the  bondage  of  sin  to  the  freedom  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  Then  he  paused.  Almina  sat  with 
terrible  yet  delicious  chills  chasing  each  other  over  her. 
She  glanced  at  Temple,  wondering  if  the  girl  would  get 
religion. 

Temple  was  looking  straight  at  the  speaker. 

In  the  pause  there  was  a  movement  at  the  door.  With- 
out glancing  that  way.  Temple  was  aware  that  Sally  was  in 
the  doorway,  and  she  saw  beside  her  the  great  white  bulk 
of  the  Newfoundland  Yucatan. 

The  girl  made  a  slight  motion  with  her  hand,  and  the 
yellow  woman  and  the  dog  came  to  her  side.  There  was 
no  room  on  the  benches.  Without  any  hesitation  the 
woman  sat  down  on  the  floor  in  front  of  her  mistress.  She 
drew  up  her  legs  and  clasped  her  hands  over  her  knees. 
The  dog  seated  himself  on  his  haunches,  gazed  at  Temple, 
and  slowly  thumped  the  floor  with  his  tail. 

In  the  silence  of  this  slight  interruption  Almina  was  look- 
ing forward  with  mingled  misery  and  happiness  to  a  power- 
ful delineation  of  the  eternal  anger  from  which  mortals  must 
some  way  escape. 

Mercer's  eyes  wandered  over  his  little  congregation  ;  they 
came  to  the  girl  directly  in  front  of  him.  Temple's  eyes 
were  still  upon  him  absorbedly. 

A  sudden  change  of  intention  came  to  the  preacher.  He 
had  intended  to  talk  of  the  awful  consequences  of  sin,  the 
terrors  of  everlasting  damnation.  He  had  meant  to  exhort 
his  hearers  to  flee — flee  from  the  wrath  to  come. 

His  penetrating  voice  suddenly  asked  in  its  softest  ac- 
cents, 


Il6  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  Is  there  a  man  here  who  remembers  that  he  loved  his 
mother — or  his  father — or  his  wife — or  any  one  in  the  whole 
Avorld  ?     Is  there  ?     Is  there  ?" 

Mercer's  glance,  now  inexpressibly  gentle  and  sweet,  went 
again  from  one  to  the  other  of  those  stolid,  ignorant,  unthink- 
ing faces.  His  words  may  have  had  some  effect,  but  there 
was  that  in  the  man's  presence,  the  mysterious  something 
which  is  given  to  some  human  beings,  and  which  makes  them 
leaders,  which  had  far  more  effect. 

A  faint,  tremulous  voice,  that  yet  came  from  a  bearded 
man,  behind  the  others,  was  heard  saying, 

"  Yes,  yes — fur  shore — fur  shore." 

Then  there  was  a  movement  through  the  whole  company, 
and  murmurs  of  assent. 

Sally  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  and  groaned  deep  down  in 
her  chest.  Temple  sat  perfectly  still,  her  hand  on  Yucatan's 
head.  Mercer  was  aware  that  her  face  was  towards  him.  He 
was  so  intensely  aware  of  it  that  he  passed  his  hand  invol- 
untarily over  his  eyes  that  he  might  more  fully  give  himself 
up  to  those  others — those  animals  in  the  guise  of  men  and 
women  who  were  so  in  need  of  the  salvation  of  love  and 
peace  which  Jesus  Christ  had  brought  into  the  world. 

A  man  near  the  door  sprang  to  his  feet.  He  had  one 
hand  on  his  hip  ;  he  flung  the  other  out  fiercely. 

"There's  my  little  gal — my  little  Tressy" — he  cried,  "lurv 
her  !     I'll  be  damned  if  I  don't  lurv  her  !" 

Mercer  turned  like  a  flash  upon  this  man. 

"Yes,  yes!"  he  exclaimed,  "  now  you  know  what  I  mean. 
You  love  her,  and  you  like  to  do  what  will  please  her.  She 
likes  to  do  what  will  please  you.  You'd  do  anything  for  her, 
because  you  love  her.  You'd  die  for  her.  There's  some- 
thing in  every  heart  here  to-night  that  knows  what  I'm  talk- 
ing about." 

There  was  another  movement.  A  light  came  upon  dull 
faces,  and  grew,  and  grew.  Sordid  life  of  "crap  making" 
and  drinking  and  licentiousness  seemed  to  drop  away, 
piece  by  piece,  like  old  rags  from  a  beggar's  body.     It  was 


YOUNG   DALVECKER  II7 

not    a    God   thundering  curses  at  them,  but  a  God  loving 
them. 

At  the  end  of  one  of  the  sentences  Mrs.  Ammidown  sud- 
denly began  to  sing, 

"Oh,  love  divine,  that  stooped  to  share 
Our  sharpest  pang,  our  bitterest  tear  ! 
On  Thee  we  cast  each  earthborn  care  ; 
We  smile  at  pain  while  Thou  art  near." 

No  one  seemed  to  know  this  hymn  among  the  natives,  but 
at  the  third  line  Temple's  strong,  rich  contralto  joined  in,  and 
supported  and  bore  up  the  other  voice ;  and  thus  the  two 
sang  to  the  end  of  the  hymn. 

The  instant  the  words  ceased  Mercer  broke  forth  into 
something  quite  different.  He  had  no  platitudes  about  the 
sentiment  of  religion  then.  He  talked  about  drunkenness 
and  laziness  and  wife-beating  and  adultery. 

He  lashed  the  people,  and  they  took  his  lashing;  nay,  they 
crouched  to  it.  They  writhed,  they  groaned,  they  swore  with 
occasional  outburst  that  it  was  God's  truth  he  was  speaking. 
They  gazed  at  each  other. 

One  great  fellow  with  a  beard  down  to  his  waistband,  and 
big  boots  caked  with  yellow  mud,  sprang  up  and  shouted, 

*'  By  thur  devil !  I  tell  you-uns  what  'tis,  this  man  is  a-tell- 
in'  thur  trewth  !  I'm  gwine  ter  reform,  I  be  !  I  knocked  my 
'oman  down  yisterday.  She  war  damned  pervokin'."  He 
glanced  round  the  company.  "  You-uns  know  jes'  how  damn 
jDervokin'  my  'oman  c'n  be.  But  I  ain't  gwine  ter  knock  her 
down  ergin.  Never  onc't.  I  sw'ar  hit.  'Tain't  no  work 
fur  a  man  —  to  be  knockin'  down  women — 'tain't.  Other 
preachers  don't  talk  religion  that  makes  er  man  do  dif'runt. 
This  is  thur  religion  fur  me.  I'm  gwine  ter  do  dif'runt.  Some 
of  you-uns  jes'  spout  er  prayer  as  '11  fit  my  case." 

The  man  threw  himself  down  on  his  knees,  and  covered 
his  face  with  a  pair  of  grimy,  hairy  hands. 

Even  Mrs.  Ammidown  could  not  smile  at  the  grotesque 
speech  or  the  grotesque  speaker.     Her  face  was  set  in   a 


Il8  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

more  earnest  look  than  was  often  seen  on  it.     Genuine  emo- 
tion is  such  a  power,  such  a  contagious  power. 

Temple  was  leaning  forward  as  if  she  were  listening  for 
something  more  and  something  different  from  anything  she 
had  heard — or  rather  as  if  she  were  even  now  hearing  the 
beginning  of  that  something.  Her  eyes  were  still  on  the 
preacher.  Mrs.  Ammidown,  glancing  at  her,  saw  that  the 
intent  eyes  of  the  girl  did  not  really  see  Mercer  himself,  but 
that  they  were  gazing  beyond  him,  through  him  ;  they  were 
searching. 

As  for  Mercer  himself,  he  was  glorified,  exultant.  He  had 
never  before  been  so  conscious  of  doing  the  Lord's  work,  of 
being  in  deed  and  in  truth  a  laborer  in  the  vineyard.  He  did 
not  know  why  it  was.  But  this  evening  a  greater  glory  had 
been  vouchsafed  to  him.  It  was  as  if  he  had  been  sealed 
by  the  Almighty  as  one  who  was  worthy  to  work  and  to  be 
blessed  in  his  work. 

His  eyes  sought  Temple's.  "  Who  is  going  to  pray  for  our 
brother.?"  he  asked. 

Temple  slid  down  to  her  knees.  Without  knowing  that 
she  did  so,  she  leaned  heavily  against  Sally's  stalwart  frame 
as  she  had  often  leaned  when  she  was  a  child. 

She  began  to  pray.  Afterwards  she  could  never  remem- 
ber anything  she  said  at  that  time.  She  could  only  remem- 
ber the  ecstatic  state  of  her  mind  in  the  conviction  that  God 
had  at  last  given  to  her  that  she  should  "  experience  relig- 
ion," that  she  should  have  a  new  heart  with  which  to  serve 
him  all  the  years  of  her  life,  and  for  an  eternity  in  heaven. 
This  she  remembered,  and  that  she  longed  so  fervently  that 
God  would  help  that  man  who  had  asked  for  prayers  that  the 
very  fervor  would  insure  the  answer. 

Sally  shouted  fiery  words  of  triumph  now  and  then  in  her 
mellow  African  voice.  There  were  continuous  exclamations 
all  about  in  the  room. 

It  was  Mrs.  Ammidown  alone  who  could  discriminate 
enough  to  know  how  wonderful  the  girl's  prayer  had  really 
been. 


YOUNG    DALVECKER 


119 


Miss  Drowdy  burst  out  in  a  quivering,  excited  treble, 

"  Glory  to  God  most  high  !" 

And  now  the  negroes  were  rocking  to  and  fro,  and  moan- 
ing and  shouting.  Some  of  them  were  openly  watching  Sal- 
ly, who  was  famous  among  them  as  one  who  could  have  the 
power  beyond  them  all.  She  could  contort  her  strong,  big 
frame ;  she  could  writhe  and  undulate  like  a  snake ;  her  face 
would  be  set,  her  lips  foaming. 

Temple,  the  moment  she  had  ceased  praying,  rose  to  her 
feet.  She  pushed  Sally  aside  and  moved  towards  the  door, 
the  men  crowding  back  to  let  her  pass.  Behind  her  walked 
the  white  dog. 

The  girl  and  the  dog  made  their  way  to  where  the  heav- 
ens looked  down  on  them.  Temple  had  left  her  hat,  but  she 
did  not  know  it. 

She  walked  blindly  down  the  mountain,  the  dog  following 
close  at  her  heels,  his  head  and  tail  drooped. 

Suddenly  the  girl  stopped.  She  turned  her  face  up  tow- 
ards the  sky.     She  stretched  out  her  clasped  hands. 

"  This  must  be  religion,"  she  said,  aloud.  "  I've  wanted 
it  for  so  long.  It  was  that  man  who  brought  it.  It  was  that 
man,  because  he  is  God's  ambassador  —  God's  ambassa- 
dor." 

The  stars  glittered  down  upon  her.  She  remembered  a 
phrase  she  had  read  the  day  before, 

"  In  the  night  only  Friedland's  stars  may  shine." 

She  thought  she  knew  now  what  those  words  meant.  She 
had  a  feeling  that  all  mysteries  might  be  revealed  to  her 
now.  And  the  ineffable  glory  of  the  night,  of  the  dark 
shapes  of  the  mountains,  of  the  moist  odors,  of  life  and 
youth,  did  not  at  this  moment  make  her  heart  ache  so. 
That  was  because  she  had  religion  ;  she  would  now  be 
able  to  bear  the  wonderful  happiness  which  came  from  just 
being  alive. 

"  Temple  !  Temple  Crawford  !    Where  are  you  ?" 

Some  one  called  from  up  the  slope. 

The  girl  stood  silent,  loath  at  first  to  answer.     Yucatan 


I20  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

turned  and  looked  up,  then  glanced  at  his  mistress,  as  if 
questioning  her.  In  the  stillness  that  followed  the  call,  a 
horse  hitched  at  the  school -house  neighed  shrilly;  then 
another  neighed  and  pawed,  sending  some  stones  rattling 
down. 

"  Where  are  you  ?"  repeated  the  voice. 

Then  Temple  saw  a  figure  detach  itself  from  the  dark- 
ness under  a  tree,  and  come  across  the  patches  of  light 
towards  her.  It  was  Mrs.  Ammidown,  and  she  was  hud- 
dling her  shawl  up  about  her  head  and  shoulders. 

There  was  shouting,  and  a  snatch  of  a  hymn  from  the 
house  ;  then  the  preacher's  voice,  strong  and  persuasive. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  came  swiftly  to  Temple,  threw  a  fold 
of  her  wrap  over  the  girl,  and  drew  her  close  within  her 
arm. 

"  Really,"  she  said,  "  I  was  afraid  to  have  you  out  here 
alone.  In  your  exalted  state  you  might  unfold  wings  and 
fly  away.  And  then,  when  the  reaction  came,  your  wings 
would  suddenly  fail  and  you  would  fall.  My  dear,  I  wanted 
to  be  near,  that  I  might  catch  you  when  you  fell." 

Temple  turned  towards  her  friend. 

"  When  I  fell  ?"  she  questioned.     "  But  I  shall  not  fall." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  little  girl !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ammidown,  in 
a  tender  whisper. 

Temple  moved  uneasily. 

"You  need  not  pity  me,"  she  said.  And  then,  ardently, 
"  No,  don't  pity  !  Any  one  might  envy  me  to-night.  You 
see,"  with  a  confiding  motion  towards  the  woman,  "  I've 
got  religion — at  last — at  last."  She  clasped  her  hands 
again,  and  threw  them  outward.  "  I  never  thought  I  had  it 
before.  But  to-night,  when  the  preacher  talked  like  that, 
something  in  my  heart  yielded — the  Holy  Ghost  came  in — 
I  wanted  to  help  people — to  help  these  wretches  around 
here.     And  you,  Mrs.  Ammidown — can't  I  help  you .?" 

But  the  woman  could  not  at  first  reply.  She  was  very 
near  to  tears. 

She  was  asking  herself  if  there  were,  indeed,  something 


YOUNG    DALVECKER  I2I 

real  in  this  state  of  mind  which  controlled  Temple  ;  some- 
thing which  would  not  pass  away,  and  which  would  affect 
life  itself. 

Her  brother  believed  so ;  there  had  been  a  time  when 
she  would  have  believed  it.     But  now  ? 

She  gazed  wistfully  at  the  girl's  glorified  face. 

"  It  is  a  condition  of  the  nerves,"  was  what  the  woman 
was  saying.  And  forlornly  to  herself  she  added,  "  Every- 
thing is  a  condition  of  the  nerves — everything.  And  when 
our  nerves  are  dead,  where  is  the  soul .''" 

The  physician  in  her,  the  materialist  physician,  became 
awake  to  the  danger  of  the  excitement  which  ruled  Temple. 

At  that  moment  Dr.  Ammidown  wished  that  she  knew 
positively  whether  religion,  love  itself,  were  all  a  mere 
matter  of  magnetism  and  neurosis.  What  particular  nerves 
might  be  called  the  nerves  of  religion  ?  Had  they  been 
discovered  and  labelled  ?  A  phrase  of  a  famous  doctor 
came  into  her  mind,  *^  The  nerves  that  make  us  alive  to 
music  spread  out  in  the  most  sensitive  region  of  the  mar- 
row, just  where  it  is  widening  to  run  upward  into  the 
hemispheres." 

It  was  with  a  womanish  shudder  that  Mrs,  Ammidown 
recalled  the  hour  in  the  dissecting-room  when  those  nerves 
had  been  laid  bare  in  that  body — that  body  which  had 
once  been  as  alive  as  she  was  now,  but  that  was  then  lying 
dead — dead,  on  the  marble. 

"  Oh,  the  mystery  that  we  call  living !  And  the  mystery 
that  we  call  death  !  The  knife  of  the  dissecter  could  find 
neither  the  one  mystery  nor  the  other.  The  informing  fire 
— what  was  that  ?     Where  was  that '? 

All  these  things  rushed  through  the  woman's  mind  as 
she  stood  there  with  her  arm  around  this  girl  who  had 
within  her  such  powers  of  sensation.  And  again  the  in- 
satiable spirit  asked,  Was  it  all  nerve  sensation  ?  And 
what  would  be  left  if  all  sensation  were  taken  away  ?  Only 
death  ? 

"Can't  I  help  you?" 


122  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Temple  pressed  still  nearer  her  companion  as  she  re- 
peated this  question.  She  was  eager  to  begin  to  do  some- 
thinsr. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Ammidown,  promptly,  "  you  can  do 
something  for  me." 

She  was  all  physician  now.  The  dilated  eyes  and  brill- 
iantly pale  face  of  the  girl  alarmed  her. 

"  Oh,  what  is  it  ?" 

"  Come  up  the  slope  with  me." 

"What,  and  leave  the  preaching?     I  was  going  back." 

"  Never  mind  the  preaching.     You  have  had  enough." 

"But  those  people  —  they  will  listen  and  sing  for  an 
hour  longer.     They  may  have  another  blessing." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  restrained  the  words  that  rose  to  her 
lips. 

"  They  are  blocks,  stolid  blocks,"  she  said,  imperatively  ; 
"they  can  bear  any  kind  of  dissipation.  But  you — child, 
you  have  no  idea  of  your  own  face  at  this  moment.  Come, 
let  us  go  and  see  the  pony." 

She  took  Temple's  hand,  and  led  her  up  the  path.  Tem- 
ple yielded. 

"  I  thought  you  said  the  pony  was  all  right,"  she  said. 

"So  I  did.  You  can  soon  ride  him.  But  let  us  see  him, 
nevertheless — and  the  ox.     I  want  to  see  the  ox." 

Temple  glanced  in  wonder  at  the  speaker. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  she  said. 

"  Never  mind,  but  come." 

They  went  on  in  silence  until  they  were  opposite  the 
shed  which  held  Thimble. 

"  This  is  the  place,"  said  Temple. 

"  But,  come,"  responded  the  woman. 

She  \vas  fearing  every  moment  that  the  girl  would  assert 
herself,  and  that  there  would  come  into  Temple's  manner 
that  authority  and  power  to  be  obeyed  which  belonged  to 
her.  But  she  allowed  herself  to  be  led.  They  stopped  at 
the  rickety  old  shanty  where  Juba,  the  ox,  lived.  Juba 
ploughed  when   Bart  or   Sally  chose  to  plough  with  him. 


YOUNG    DALVECKER  123 

Most  times,  however,  he  was  mildly  browsing  in  far  past- 
ures, and  sometimes  coming  home  for  "  roughness  "  when 
pastures  failed  him. 

The  door,  which  had  fallen  down  and  had  not  been  put 
up,  allowed  the  moonlight  to  stream  in  upon  Juba,  who  was 
meditatively  chewing  as  he  gazed  over  the  bar  which  kept 
him  from  going  out  into  the  wide  world. 

"  I  suppose  he  is  kind  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Ammidown,  as  the 
two  stopped  in  front  of  him. 

"  Kind?  Oh  yes.  Besides,  I  shouldn't  be  afraid  of  him 
if  he  were  not  kind,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Go  in  there  and  lean  against  him ;  put  your  arms 
around  his  neck  and  hug  him." 

"  What  ?" 

The  girl  stared  through  the  moonlight  at  her  compan- 
ion. Already  there  was  a  trifle  less  of  stress  in  the  young 
face. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  laughed  a  little. 

"  It  is  your  doctor  who  speaks,"  she  said.  "  People  with 
your  sensitive  nerves  are  generally  afraid,  and,  being  afraid, 
they  can't  avail  themselves  of  a  thousand  things  good  for 
them.  But  you  are  not  afraid.  These  dumb  animals  carry 
comfort  for  such  as  can  take  it." 

Temple's  face  relaxed  so  that  she  could  smile  slightly. 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  know 
very  well.  Often  when  I've  been  out  and  seen  such  won- 
ders of  glory  and  beauty — the  mountains,  you  know,  and 
the  sky — I  have  found  that  I  was  better  able  to  bear  it — to 
bear  life,  you  see — " 

Temple  seemed  to  leave  her  sentence  unfinished. 

She  stooped  beneath  the  bar  and  went  to  the  side  of  the 
ox,  putting  her  arm  over  his  neck  and  resting  heavily  upon 
him. 

The  animal  turned  slow  eyes  towards  her, ceased  his  chew- 
ing for  a  moment,  then,  with  a  movement  of  throat  and 
mouth,  recalled  the  "  cud  "  and  began  again  upon  it. 

Mrs.  Ammidown   leaned  her  arms  on   the  bar,  and  ex- 


124  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

tended  a  dried  cornstalk  towards  Juba,  who  calmly  appro- 
priated it. 

Temple  put  her  forehead  down  on  Juba's  shoulder.  The 
shining  pallor  was  leaving  her  face. 

"  How  calm  he  is  !"  she  said.  "  I  fancy  I  feel  his  calm- 
ness iftid  his  strength  coming  into  me.  But  then,  I,  myself, 
am  strong." 

The  doctor  looked  at  her  admiringly. 

"  Yes,"  she  responded,  "  you  have  not  only  nerve,  but 
muscle  and  brawn.  But,  you  see,  nerves  are  things  which, 
give  them  rein,  wear  through  muscle  and  brawn." 

"  Tm  not  afraid." 

"  In  truth,  neither  am  I — much.  But  this  getting  relig- 
ion—" 

Mrs.  Ammidown  stopped.  She  was  conscious  that  she 
was  on  uncertain  ground.  She  had  not  yet  decided  in  her 
own  mind  just  how  much  there  was  in  "  getting  religion." 
If  there  were  in  reality  anything,  then,  in  Heaven's  name, 
let  it  give  all  it  could.  She  would  not  wish  to  deprive  poor 
human  nature  of  any  comfort  it  could  get. 

Temple  did  not  ask  her  to  finish  her  sentence.  She  was 
still  leaning  against  Juba,  and  absently  passing  her  hand 
over  the  ridge  between  his  horns.     She  began  to  hum, 

"Oh,  love  divine,  that  stooped  to  share 
Our  sharpest  pang,  our  bitterest  tear." 

"  It  was  Dr.  Holmes  who  wrote  that ;  and  it  was  Dr. 
Holmes  who  told  just  what  part  of  marrow  and  little  scraps 
of  our  body  make  us  feel  music." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  spoke  wdth  a  trifle  of  impatience. 

Temple  was  not  impatient.  She  looked  calmly  at  the 
woman  on  the  other  side  of  the  bar. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  care  so  much  to  find  out  what 
makes  us  feel,"  she  said.  "  It's  enough  that  we  do  feel. 
My  father  used  to  say  that  any  one  was  a  fool  who  \vas  al- 
ways analyzing.     Please  give  Juba  that  bit  of  roughness  at 


YOUNG    DALVECKER  125 

your  feet.  See,  he  thanks  you.  Do  you.  think  I  am  what 
you  call  nervous  now  ?" 

Temple  extended  her  hand,  and  i\Irs.  Ammidown  took 
it,  holding  it  a  moment,  and  gazing  at  the  face  before  her. 

The  elder  woman  was  not  able  to  divest  herself  of  a  feel- 
ing that  this  hour  was  in  some  way  a  turning-point  with  the 
girl ;  she  could  not  have  told  why,  however,  and  she  disliked 
to  have  an  emotion  which  she  could  not  understand.  And 
she  was  conscious  of  some  anger  towards  her  brother.  Now 
she  was  away  from  the  influence  of  his  presence,  her  anger 
began  to  grow. 

"  No,  you  are  not  nervous,"  she  answered,  "  but  you  are 
intensely  excited.  I  always  did  say  that  a  person  who  had 
strong  health  and  sensitive  nerves  could  command  heaven 
and  hell." 

"  Yes,"  said  Temple,  "  but  it's  heaven  that  I  shall  com- 
mand." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  suppressed  a  groan.  Why  does  the  hap- 
piness of  youth  make  an  older  person  groan  .'' 

There  was  the  sound  of  feet  coming  hastily  from  the  di- 
rection of  the  school-house,  and  presently  young  Dalvecker 
came  in  sight  under  the  trees.  He  hastened  forward,  tak- 
ing off  his  hat  as  he  did  so,  his  long,  sleek  hair  looking 
sleeker  and  yellower  than  ever  in  the  moonlight. 

"I  couldn't  stay  no  longer;  I  couldn't  noways  stay'thout 
you  war  there.  Miss  Temple,"  he  said. 

His  admiration  for  the  girl  was  so  open,  so  ingenuous, 
that  Mrs.  Ammidown  smiled  with  liking  at  him.  At  the 
same  time  she  inwardly  shuddered  at  thought  of  this  girl's 
returning  the  young  man's  feeling. 

Dalvecker  had  been  to  school  in  Asheville  one  term,  and 
ever  since  he  had  been  trying  not  to  talk  like  the  mountain- 
eers. Particularly  had  he  been  trying  since  he  had  known 
Temple,  now  more  than  a  year  ago.  He  felt  that  he  didn't 
succeed  very  well  in  his  attempts  at  civilized  conversation, 
and  he  could  not  help  being  very  glad  wdien  Temple  herself 
lapsed  into  mountain  dialect,  as  she  was  liable  to  do  at  any 


126  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

time,  in  a  degree.  At  such  times  the  young  fellow  had  wild 
hopes  that  his  suit  might  not  be  hopeless.  He  knew  very 
well  that  he  himself  was  not  worthy  of  her ;  but  his  station 
he  was  quite  sure  was  superior  to  hers.  Did  he  not  live  in 
a  "  plank  house  "  with  real  windows  to  it  ?  And  the  Dal- 
vecker  farm  was  known  to  be  the  very  best  on  Cain  Creek. 
And  his  father  was  dead,  and  his  mother  adored  and  obeyed 
her  only  son. 

When  the  young  man  thought  over  all  these  advantages 
he  was  not  dejected  ;  but  as  soon  as  he  was  actually  in 
Temple's  presence  his  confidence  flew  away,  and  he  could 
have  thrown  himself  on  his  knees  and  begged  the  girl  to 
have  mercy  on  him,  and  give  him  one  glimmer  of  hope. 

"  That  was  wrong,"  said  Temple,  seriously,  "you  ought  to 
have  stopped  to  the  preaching." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  turned  and  walked  up  towards  the  house, 
the  shining  of  the  hearth  fire  through  the  open  door  beckon- 
ing her. 

The  young  man  came  close  up  to  the  bar  across  Juba's 
door.  The  moonlight  touched  the  lower  half  of  Temple's 
face,  revealing  the  somewhat  full  lips  and  the  strong  chin. 
The  upper  half  of  her  face  was  illuminated  by  her  shining 
eyes.  The  moon's  radiance  is  particularly  kind  to  the 
human  countenance — it  softens  defects,  and  seems  to  lend 
bewitchment  even  to  what  might  be  ugly  beneath  the 
sun. 

Dalvecker  gazed  at  the  girl  in  silence  a  moment  before 
he  replied.  His  heart  was  beating  in  his  throat — even  in 
his  finger-ends.  A  thousand  times  he  had  pictured  to  him- 
self the  possibility  of  being  alone  with  Temple  like  this. 
Would  such  luck  ever  be  his  ?  He  had  met  her  on  horse- 
back many  times ;  he  used  to  prowl  along  those  paths 
which  opened  into  magnificent  views,  for  such  paths  were 
the  places  where  he  was  most  likely  to  see  ahead  of  him, 
or  in  some  twist  of  the  road,  a  white  dog  and  a  white 
pony. 

Sometimes  Temple  would  let  him  ride  by  her  side  a  few 


YOUNG    DALVECKER  127 

miles ;  but  she  was  like  some  wild  thing  of  the  woods  when 
she  was  in  the  woods  with  her  dog  and  her  horse. 

This  was  different.  Still  he  found  it  difficult  to  speak  ;  it 
was  on  account  of  that  throbbing  in  his  throat. 

When  he  could  command  his  voice,  all  he  said  was,  "  But 
you  didn't  stay  to  the  preachin'  yourself." 

The  girl  seemed  to  be  gazing  over  his  head  into  the 
lighted  and  shadowy  spaces  behind  him. 

"  That  was  different,"  she  answered. 

"  How  different  ?" 

"  Why,  you  see  " — she  was  looking  at  him  now — "  you 
see,  Lincoln,  I  had  just  got  religion,  and  I  had  to  go  out  of 
the  house,  into  the  outdoors,  or  I  couldn't  bear  the — the 
glory  of  it." 

Dalvecker  did  not  know  just  what  to  say ;  he  was  deeply 
fearful  that  he  should  not  say  the  right  thing.  A  strong, 
hot  anxiety  was  upon  him. 

Finally  he  asked  : 

"  Did  religion  curm  to  you  when  you  was  prayin'  ?  Oh, 
that  was  a  beautiful  prayer  !  jest  beautiful  !  Did  it  curm 
then  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  hesitatingly  ;  "  yes,  I  think  it  must 
have  been  then." 

"What  was  it  like?" 

The  young  man  was  impressed  that  he  would  do  well  to 
continue  speaking  on  this  subject,  that  he  might  detain  his 
companion  here.  He  feared  that  she  might  all  at  once  go 
back  to  the  preaching. 

Temple  left  the  ox  and  came  to  the  bar  where  Dalvecker 
stood.  Her  face  was  now  all  in  the  moonlight.  The  man 
gazed  adoringly  at  that  face. 

A  sharp  glint  from  the  diamond  on  Temple's  finger 
struck  his  eye,  and  at  the  same  instant  seemed  to  stab 
his  heart.  He  did  not  know  where  that  ring  came  from, 
and  he  had  imagined  and  suffered  a  great  deal  about  it. 

He  felt  now  like  snatching  the  trinket  from  its  place  and 
flinging  it  down  the  mountain. 


128  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  What  was  it  like  ?"  he  asked  again.  And  he  added  that 
he  had  often  thought  he  must  get  rehgion  somehow;  he 
reckoned  that  it  was  a  good  deal  safer  when  a  man  came 
to  die. 

"  I  wish  you'd  try  to  tell  me  how  it  is,  an'  I  'low  I'll  make 
out  to  get  it  somehow.  Yes,"  earnestly,  "  I'll  shorely  have 
it,  now  you've  got  it — shorely." 

Temple  put  out  her  hand  and  laid  it  upon  Dalvecker's 
sleeve.  A  tremor  came  over  him,  but  he  stood  motionless. 
If  he  moved  in  the  slightest  degree  she  might  think  to  take 
away  her  hand.  He  was  not  so  blind  that  he  could  not 
see  that  the  touch  was  on  his  arm  in  an  entirely  imper- 
sonal way. 

"  It's  somehow  like  a  great  white  light — and  like  strength 
— and  like  a  father's  love — only  I  don't  know  what  a  fa- 
ther's love  is — and  like  all  beautiful  things — and  as  if  beauty 
would  not  smite  you  so  any  more.  You  know  how  beauty 
hurts,  Lincoln  ,?" 

"  Yes — yes,"  ardently. 

It  was  characteristic  of  this  girl  that  she  did  not  in  the  least 
understand  that  his  answer  might  refer  to  something  very 
different  from  anything  that  was  in  her  mind.  Besides,  if 
she  had  been  asked  to  consider  the  subject  she  would  have 
decided  promptly  that  she  was  not  beautiful.  And  she 
was  not.  But  young  Dalvecker  was  of  a  different  opinion. 
As  she  stood  there  leaning  on  the  bar,  with  that  pale  ef- 
fulgence of  moonlight  upon  her,  the  man  shivered  with 
the  sense  of  what  seemed  an  unbearable  emotion.  He 
was  blindly  groping  for  the  cause.  He  could  not  under- 
stand. He  had  seen  a  good  many  girls — they  had  red 
cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes,  and,  until  they  were  broken 
down  by  hard  work,  there  was  a  kind  of  beauty  about  them. 
He  felt  that  they  must  be  prettier  than  Temple.  Pretty? 
Why,  Temple  wasn't  pretty  at  all.  She  was — here  Dalvec- 
ker's pulses  gave  a  great,  intoxicating  beat — she  was  lovely, 
lovely — and  the  look  in  her  eyes —  The  young  man  tried 
not  to  go  down  on  his  knees  there  in  front  of  the  ox  shed. 


YOUNG    DALVECKER  129 

It  occurred  to  Temple  that  perhaps  she  might  be  the 
instrument  of  bringing  religion  to  Dalvecker.  He  had  just 
said  he  would  surely  have  it,  now  that  she  had  it. 

She  looked  at  him  more  attentively. 

"  Why  can't  you  experience  right  now  .'*"  she  inquired, 
earnestly.  "  Yes,"  she  repeated,  "  right  now.  You  know 
that  now  is  the  accepted  time." 

"  I  know  it,"  he  answ^ered.  He  moved  uneasily.  "  Some- 
how I  don't  quite  understand  how  to  begin." 

She  leaned  forward  eagerly. 

"  Give  your  heart  to  God,"  she  said,  in  a  half-whisper. 
"  He  will  take  it,  and  cleanse  it,  and  you  can  live  for  Him." 

"  Oh,  Temple  !"  cried  Dalvecker.  "  I  want  to.  You 
holp  me!  You  tell  me  how!  If  you'd  only  holp  me  I 
could  do  anything." 

Her  eyes  rested  on  him  with  a  tender  interest. 

"  I'll  pray  for  you  night  and  morning,"  she  said. 

The  young  man  caught  her  hand  impetuously.  She  did 
not  withdraw  it,  for  she  thought  he  was  thinking  of  religion, 
and  not  of  her. 

She  was  viewing  him  as  a  human  being  to  be  saved. 

"  I  don't  see  how  I'm  ever  to  go  right  'thout  you,"  he 
said.  "  You  jest  marry  me.  Temple,  an'  I'll  be  plumb 
shore  to  get  religion,  an'  keep  it  to  er  dead  certainty. 
Now,  I  will !  Come,  now,  you  marry  me.  I  wouldn't  give 
an  old  set  of  gears  for  my  life  if  you  don't.  But  you  c'n 
do  any  earthly  thing  with  me  if  you're  my  wife." 


VIII 
"we  will  fight  together" 

Temple  did  not  blush  in  the  least.  She  gazed  seriously 
at  her  companion.  She  rather  wondered  at  the  great  ex- 
citement in  his  face ;  but  she  immediately  accounted  for 
that  by  the  fact  that  he  was  seeking  religion.  She  had 
been  under  great  excitement  herself  a  short  time  ago.  She 
recalled  Dr.  Ammidown's  prescription  for  her. 

"  Perhaps  you  need  to  lean  against  Juba,"  she  said. 

Dalvecker  gazed  helplessly.  She  did  not  look  as  if  she 
were  mocking  him,  but  why  should  she  say  such  a  thing  as 
that  ? 

"Yes,"  she  went  on,  examining  his  countenance  yet 
more  closely,  "  I'm  sure  you  need  Juba.  It's  such  a  lovely 
way  to  get  calmer.  And  you  know  Mrs.  Ammidown  is  a 
doctor." 

Dalveckers  face  turned  very  red. 

"  I  reckon  you're  making  fun  of  me,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  no!  no!" 

"  I  want  you  to  be  my  wife."  The  young  man  sturdily 
repeated  these  words. 

Temple  seemed  to  bring  herself  to  a  contemplation  of 
the  meaning  of  what  he  said. 

"  I  ain't  much  myself,"  he  said  humbly,  "  but  I'd  be 
shore  'bout  religion ;  an'  I've  gurt  a  plank  house,  an'  I 
love  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  Temple,  "  I  reckon  you  wouldn't  say  so  if 
you  didn't." 

Dalvecker  burst  into  an  oath.  Then  he  tried  to  control 
himself  so  that  he  could  say  with  tolerable  calmness  that 


"we  will  fight  together"  131 

he  hoped  she'd  forgive  him  ;  but  swearin'  was  sometimes 
the  only  way  that  a  man  could  find  words  strong  enough. 

Temple  accepted  his  apology.  She  had  heard  too 
much  swearing  to  be  unduly  shocked.  She  said  that  she 
reckoned  he  knew  that  she  wasn't  the  kind  of  girl  who  could 
love  anybody. 

If  Dalvecker  had  been  less  vitally  interested  he  would 
have  been  amused.  As  it  was,  he  was  aware  that  a  great 
confusion  was  growing  upon  him. 

"  You  see,"  said  Temple,  "  I've  always  been  sure  that  I 
could  only  be  very  friendly — I  couldn't  be  what  you  call 
'in  love.'  And  I  wouldn't  want  to  be.  I'm  cold-blooded. 
And  I'm  powerful  glad  I  am.  I  don't  think  there's  any 
need  of  loving  a  man  as  the  novels  tell  about.  Regard, 
and  respect,  you  know,  and  all  that.  And  identity  of  in- 
terest, and — and — and  the  same  religion.  You  see,  my 
mother  married  for  love,  and  she  was  wretched.  She  left 
me  a  letter  about  it.  I've  read  that  letter  a  great  many 
times." 

Poor  Dalvecker  could  not  speak  directly.  He  was  so 
bewildered  that  his  under-jaw  dropped  a  little.  He  was 
not  nimble  minded ;  and  it  was  a  long  moment  before  it 
occurred  to  him  that  her  words  might  in  a  way  be  construed 
as  encouragement.  She  might  possibly  marry  him,  even 
though  she  was  one  of  that  kind  of  women  whose  tempera- 
ments make  a  warm  affection  impossible. 

"  If  you'd  marry  me  jes'  because  you  was  my  friend," 
he  said  at  last,  "  an'  then  convert  me,  you  know.  If  I  had 
you  with  me  I  sh'd  stay  converted." 

His  tone  was  very  beseeching.  "Won't  you  think  of 
hit  ?     Oh,  do  think  of  hit !" 

Temple  hesitated.  Then  she  glanced  up  at  the  young 
man  again.  She  was  thinking  that  she  had  had  a  strong 
regard  for  him  since  they  were  boy  and  girl. 

"  If  you  like,  I'll  consider  it,"  she  said.  "  But  "—hold- 
ing up  her  hand  quickly — "  you  needn't  call  anything  settled 
in  the  least.     No  !  no !     Don't  come  near  me !     I  dislike 


132 


AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 


to  have  people  come  near  me — only  Thimble  and  Yucatan. 
Now  go.  I've  so  much  to  think  of.  And  I  want  to  pray 
and  give  thanks." 

Temple  suddenly  stooped  and  came  out  of  the  shed,  and 
walked  quickly  up  towards  the  house. 

Lincoln  Dalvecker  stood  and  watched  the  slim,  rapidly 
moving  figure.  Then  he  also  walked  away  ;  but  he  did  not 
go  back  to  the  preaching.  He  made  a  rapid  plunge  into 
the  woods.  Since  he  could  not  be  with  Temple  he  was 
glad  to  be  alone.  At  first  he  was  greatly  depressed.  He 
did  not  know  that  it  is  considered  hopeful  not  to  be  refused 
downright.  Still  he  gathered  hope,  and  when  he  told  his 
mother  the  next  morning  what  had  been  said,  she  in- 
stantly assured  him  that  Temple  had  "jest  as  good  as 
said  yes  "  ;  and  she  believed  her  own  words.  Why,  indeed, 
should  not  any  girl  be  glad  to  marry  Link  ? 

She  proceeded  forthwith  to  inform  this  one  and  that  one 
of  her  son's  engagement.  News  travels  with  wonderful 
quickness  even  in  a  wilderness  of  mountain-side.  Every 
one  within  fifty  miles  knew  within  a  week's  time  that  Tem- 
ple Crawford  was  going  to  marry  Link  Dalvecker,  and 
every  one  thought  she  was  doing  well.  She  would  have  a 
plank  house  to  live  in,  and  Link's  farm  lay  so  good  near 
Cain  Creek.  It  was  only  feared  that  Link's  wife  wouldn't  be 
one  that  would  work  as  women  are  expected  to  work.  But 
no  doubt  she  would  get  "  broke  in."  It  was  extremely 
noticeable  among  these  mountains  that  the  women  were 
broken  in — they  were  that  if  nothing  else.  It  might  almost 
be  said  that  they  were  that  and  nothing  else. 

Mrs.  Ammidown,  sitting  alone  by  the  fire  in  the  log-house, 
was  thinking  of  the  meeting  she  had  just  left.  She  was  an- 
noyed that  she  had  been  somewhat  moved.  In  her  estima- 
tion to  be  moved  by  any  such  cause  argued  some  innate 
weakness. 

She  had  piled  on  the  fat-wood  sticks,  and  the  great  flames 
leaped  up  and  made  the  place  from  the  open  door  look  as 
if  it  were  on  fire. 


"we  will  fight  together  133 

The  Newfoundland  walked  softly  across  the  floor  and 
stood  beside  her.  She  knew  that  Temple  must  be  coming, 
and  the  next  moment  the  girl  entered.  She  leaned  against 
the  wall  near  the  fireplace  in  silence  for  a  time. 

The  elder  woman  would  not  speak.  She  had  put  her  head 
back  against  her  chair  and  was  gazing  at  her  companion, 
whose  face  was  radiantly  thoughtful. 

Sometimes  a  louder  strain  of  song  could  be  heard  from  the 
school-house,  or  a  wild  shout  of  "  Glory  !  Glory!" 

"  I'm  thinking  about  marriage." 

It  was  Temple  who  said  this  at  last. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  sat  upright.  She  had  supposed  Temple's 
thoughts  to  be  occupied  by  conversion  and  religion. 

"I  have  known  young  girls  to  think  of  marriage,"  was  the 
response. 

But  Temple  did  not  seem  to  hear  this  remark. 

"  I  should  not  want  to  marry,"  she  said,  "  unless  I  thought 
I  could  do  a  great  deal  of  good." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  made  a  slight  sound  that  was  not  exactly 
a  groan. 

"To  do  good,"  continued  Temple,  "of  course  ought  to  be 
the  first  object  in  life." 

She  glanced  down  at  the  woman  sitting  near  her,  and  re- 
ceived an  ambiguous  smile  in  response. 

"  To  be  the  means  of  saving  a  human  soul  must  be  the 
greatest  good  one  can  do,"  now  remarked  Temple. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  remained  perfectly  still,  though  in  doing 
so  she  resisted  a  great  desire  to  get  up,  to  take  the  girl's  arm, 
and  demand  to  know  what  she  meant.  She  \vas  so  much 
interested  in  Temple  that  she  was  moved  by  what  she  called 
her  "  notions  "  more  than  she  wished  to  be.  And  Temple 
was  constantly  taking  up  notions  and  being  ruled  by  them, 
for  the  time  being, 

"  I  thought  you  said  you  were  considering  marriage,"  now 
said  Mrs.  Ammidown,  with  a  gentleness  that  was  suspi- 
cious. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  was  the  reply. 


134  AGAINST   HUMAN   NATURE 

"Well,  I  don't  quite  see  the  connection.  But  then  I  am 
stupid." 

"  If  you  thought  you  could  save  a  man's  soul — save  it  from 
endless  perdition — by  marrying  him,  wouldn't  you  do  it.?" 

Temple  said  "do  hit."  Her  face  was  quite  colorless,  her 
eyes  full  of  brilliance.  Mrs.  Ammidown  had  a  curious  and, 
for  some  reason,  distressing  fancy  that  the  girl's  chin  seemed 
to  have  still  more  resolution  than  usual  in  its  contour. 

''No,  I  wouldn't." 

Mrs.  Ammidown's  answer  was  low  but  distinct. 

"You  would  let  him  go  to  hell  ?"  was  the  next  question, 
put  with  intense  solemnity. 

"  Certainly  I  would — unless  I  loved  him." 

Temple  placed  her  hands  together  in  a  way  she  had. 

"  There's  no  question  of  love,"  she  said,  "  not  the  least,  on 
my  part — as  you  understand  it." 

"  Oh !  .  Then  there  is  some  particular  man  who  wishes 
you  to  save  him  from  hell  by  marrying  him  ?" 

Temple  made  a  slight  writhing  movement.  She  did  not 
like  to  hear  the  matter  put  in  just  that  way. 

"  I  suppose  he  thinks  he  loves  you  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Ammi- 
down. 

"  I  reckon  so." 

Temple  left  her  position  and  went  to  the  table.  She  took 
up  her  violin  which  lay  there.  She  picked  the  strings  a  lit- 
tle, as  if  it  were  a  banjo.  Then  she  seemed  to  bethink  her- 
self; she  put  down  the  instrument  quickly. 

"You  don't  understand  me,"  she  said.  "I  think  friend- 
ship and  respect  are  enough  to  make  a  woman  marry  a  man. 
I  think  what — well — what  you  call  love  is  merely  something 
gross  and  of  the  flesh.  I  reckon  it's  natural  for  men  to  feel 
that,  but  not  for  women.  It's  enough  for  a  woman  to  have 
a  cordial  liking,  and  affection — and — and  so  on." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  looked  at  the  speaker  in  silence.  She 
thought  that  she  had  never  felt  quite  so  helpless  in  her  life. 
She  wondered  what  Temple  contemplated  doing.  Whatever 
it  was  she  wanted  to  snatch  the  girl  away  from  it. 


(i  WT-C        MTTT    T  t'Tr'TJT'       T' r» /"•  T?  T  tj  T?  TJ     '-• 


WE    WILL    FIGHT    TOGETHER^  I35 

"  May  I  ask  where  you  got  these  ideas  ?"  finally  inquired 
the  elder  woman. 

"  You  see,"  said  Temple,  "  I've  always  had  them.  To  be- 
gin with,  you  know,  I'm  cold-blooded ;  I  have  a  cold  tem- 
perament." 

As  the  girl  made  this  favorite  assertion  of  hers,  Mrs.  Am- 
midown  said, 

"  Oh  !"  and  then  said  nothing  more. 

"Yes,"  continued  Temple,  "and  I've  thought  about  these 
things,  and  I'm  really  convinced.  My  mother  must  have 
known.  Don't  you  think  my  own  mother  knew,  Mrs.  Am- 
midown  V 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  You  know  it  is  possible  that  she  might 
have  been  mistaken." 

"  Oh  no ;  she  was  very  clear  and  positive.  She  wrote  a 
letter  for  me  to  read  when  I  was  fifteen.  I  only  remember 
her  a  very  little.  She  was  lovely — she  is  like  a  lovely  dream 
to  me  always.  She  had  such  dark,  sweet  eyes."  Here  the 
speaker's  voice  faltered.  But  she  went  on  immediately. 
"Sally  knew  her.  She  had  Sally  for  her  servant,  and  so 
Sally  can  tell  me  ever  so  many  things  about  her.  Would 
you  like  to  see  my  mother's  picture  ?" 

Temple  went  out  of  the  room  and  returned  with  a  little 
case  holding  an  old-fashioned  ambrotype  of  a  girl  of  about 
Temple's  age.  The  face  had  that  indefinite  something  which 
denotes  an  ardent,  tropical,  and  perhaps  undisciplined  nat- 
ure. It  had  also  an  equally  undefinable  resemblance  to 
Temple  without  tokens  of  her  strength  of  character. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  looked  at  the  picture  in  silence  a  moment 
before  she  said, 

"  She,  at  least,  did  not  love  in  a  cool,  matter-of  fact  way." 

"  That's  just  it,"  eagerly  exclaimed  Temple.  "  She  didn't 
love  in  the  right  way,  and  she  was  wretched.  She  knew 
where  she  had  made  the  mistake.  And  she  wanted  to  keep 
me  from  such  a  mistake.  And,  besides,  my  temperament  is 
so  different — but  why  do  you  smile  in  that  way  ?  What  do 
you  mean  by  that  kind  of  a  smile  ?" 


136  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  I  mean  nothing — absolutely  nothing." 

"  But  you  do — only  you  won't  tell." 

Temple  stood  holding  her  mother's  picture  and  looking 
at  it.     Presently  she  asked, 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  that  letter  ?  I've  always  wanted 
to  show  you  that  letter  because  " — she  hesitated  ;  then  she 
knelt  down  by  her  friend  and  leaned  her  arms  upon  her  lap, 
looking  up  into  the  face  above  her — "because  I  am  so. fond 
of  you.     You've  been  so  kind  to  me,  you  know." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  pushed  back  the  thick,  short  hair  on  the 
girl's  forehead. 

"  It's  not  so  very  difficult  to  be  kind  to  you,"  she  said. 
Then,  with  a  sort  of  strenuous  earnestness,  she  asked, 
dquickly, 

"Will  you  tell  what  man's  soul  you  are  thinking  of  saving 
by  becoming  his  wife  ?" 

Temple  answered,  promptly, 

"  Link  Dalvecker.  He  says  he's  sure  he  can  keep  religion 
if  I'll  marry  him." 

Again  Mrs.  Ammidown  had  that  helpless  feeling  which 
came  to  her  now  and  then  with  reference  to  Temple.  The 
girl's  simplicity  seemed  to  take  every  weapon  from  the 
hands  of  the  elder  woman. 

"Are  you  going  to  oblige  him?"  she  asked. 

"  I  told  him  I'd  think  about  it,"  was  the  answer. 

"  If  you  told  him  that  he'll  be  sure  you'll  accept  him." 

"  I  don't  see  why." 

"  It's  the  truth,  however.  You'll  find  out.  Will  you  let 
me  see  your  mother's  letter?" 

Temple  again  went  to  her  own  room.  She  returned  with 
a  thick  letter  carefully  wrapped. 

"  Don't  read  it  here,"  she  said.  "  Take  it  home  with 
you." 

She  remained  standing  near  her  guest,  looking  down  at 
her  with  wistful  intentness. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  inquired  Mrs.  Ammidown  at  last. 

"  It's  about  religion,"  was  the  quick  answer.     The  girl 


"we  will  fight  together"  137 

went  on  hurriedly.  "  Don't  you  want  the  Lord  to  come 
into  your  soul  and  take  possession  of  it  ?" 

The  other  seemed  to  try  to  answer,  but  she  gave  up  the 
attempt.  She  resolved  not  to  say  anything  reflecting  on 
Temple's  "experience."  She  did  not  know  how  much 
there  might  be  in  it.  Who  could  tell }  Her  brother  be- 
lieved in  such  things.  She  rose  quickly  and  made  a  mo- 
tion as  if  throwing  off  something  oppressive.  She  walked 
to  the  door. 

"  The  preaching  is  over,"  she  said,  with  an  air  of  relief. 
"  See  the  black  figures  in  the  moonlight.  I'm  glad  I'm  to 
have  a  canter  of  a  few  miles  before  I  go  to  bed.  I'll  meet 
Richard,  and  we'll  mount  at  the  shed  where  our  horses  are. 
If  he  doesn't  take  cold  it  will  be  one  of  the  latter-day  mira- 
cles. Good-bye,  dear.  May  I  advise  you  not  to  think 
too  favorably  about  saving  a  man's  soul  by  becoming  his 
wife  ?" 

The  speaker  walked  out  quickl}',  and  the  next  moment 
joined  her  brother,  who  was  coming  up  the  slope. 

"  Let  us  hurry,"  said  Mrs,  Ammidown,  with  some  author- 
ity; "a  good  gallop  is  all  that  will  save  you.  And  I  have 
something  to  tell  you." 

In  a  few  moments  the  brother  and  sister  were  galloping 
as  swiftly  as  possible  along  the  rough  path  that  led  to  the 
State  road.  Once  in  that  road  they  went  still  faster.  As 
the  horses  were  climbing  a  hill  Mercer  said : 

"  What  is  it  you  have  to  tell  me .?" 

"  I  will  call  it  a  question  of  ethics,"  was  the  answer,  "  and 
we'll  wait  until  I  have  put  you  into  your  bed  and  you  are 
drinking  a  dose  of  hot  whiskey.  If  you  come  to  an  un- 
timely death  from  jumping  into  the  French  Broad  after  a 
drunken  man  you  will  have  to  give  up  the  saving  of  souls ; 
at  least,  in  this  world." 

Later,  when  Mrs,  Ammidown  was  sitting  beside  his  bed, 
Mercer  went  back  to  the  subject  of  ethics. 

"  Perhaps  it  isn't  ethics  at  all,"  was  the  answer.  "  It's 
about  that  Crawford  girl." 


138  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

She  was  openly  watching  her  brother.  "  I  suppose  she 
is  converted ;  any  way,  she  thinks  she  is." 

"  I  hope  it's  a  true  conversion,  and  not  merely  emotion," 
responded  Mercer,  strongly. 

"  Of  course.  You'll  be  interested  to  know  that  your 
convert  is  going  to  try  to  save  some  one  directly." 

Mercer  was  looking  full  in  his  sister's  face.  When  she 
had  said  "  that  Crawford  girl "  he  was  conscious  of  a  thrill 
of  interest  which  he  resolutely  set  himself  to  ignore.  He 
had  a  tolerably  well  formed  belief  that  anything  sponta- 
neous, involuntary,  must  perforce  be  something  to  be  ig- 
nored or  fought;  something  of  the  original  devil  lurking  in 
us  all. 

"  I  suppose  a  new  convert  is  very  eager  to  convert 
others,''  remarked  Mrs.  Ammidown. 

Her  judgment  told  her  that  she  need  not  be  sorry  in  any 
way  for  the  man  before  her.  She  gazed  at  him  in  admira- 
tion. Richard  always  seemed  to  her  like  a  tempered,  keen 
blade  without  a  scabbard.  She  leaned  against  the  bed  and 
stroked  his  hot  forehead. 

"  Did  Miss  Crawford  wish  to  convert  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes ;  but  what  troubles  me  is  that  that  young  fellow 
with  the  yellow  mustache  wishes  Temple  Crawford  to  con- 
vert him.  He  thinks  he  can't  save  his  soul  without  her 
help." 

Mercer  moved  his  head  away  from  his  sister's  hand.  His 
face  hardened  perceptibly. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  went  on, 

"  But  a  worse  feature  is  that  Temple  herself  wishes  to 
help  him  save  his  soul." 

"  Don't  be  flippant,"  said  Mercer,  severely. 

"  I  don't  feel  flippant  in  the  least.  But  I  wish  you 
hadn't  converted  Temple  to-night.  She's  a  girl  who  carries 
an  idea  into  action  at  the  earliest  possible  moment." 

Mercer's  face  was  now  so  composed  that  his  burning 
eyes  seemed  set  in  a  frozen  countenance. 

"  Does  Miss  Crawford  love  this  young  man  ?"  he  asked. 


"we  will  fight  together" 


139 


"That  is  the  worst  feature  of  all,"  was  the  prompt  re- 
sponse.    "She  doesn't  love  him." 

"  And  she  is  considering  a  marriage  with  him  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  for  his  good." 

Mercer  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.     Then  he  said, 

"  I  think  I  will  get  up." 

His  sister  pushed  back  her  chair. 

"  Not  until  morning,"  she  said,  sharply. 

"  Now.  I  have  something  to  do.  I  want  to  see  Miss 
Crawford.  You  said  once  that  she  often  sat  up  late.  I 
shall  get  back  there  before  midnight.  If  she  is  up  I  shall 
see  her;  if  not  I  must  wait  until  to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  did  not  waste  another  word.  She  rose 
and  left  the  room.  Very  soon  she  heard  her  brother's  door 
shut.  She  went  to  the  window  and  threw  up  the  casement. 
The  moon  was  in  a  clear  heaven.  The  night  was  soft. 
The  mountains,  with  Pisgah  as  monarch,  stood  solemnly 
against  the  deep-blue  black  of  the  sky. 

Horse's  hoofs  sounded  distinctly  on  the  road  from  the 
stable.  Mercer  came  into  sight,  riding  swiftly,  sitting  erect 
and  determined,  like  one  who  never  failed  to  do  what  he 
resolved  to  do.  His  sister  knew  very  well  that  he  would 
have  ridden  off  just  like  this  if  he  had  known  that  an  old 
and  ugly  woman  contemplated  doing  what  he  thought  to  be 


wrong. 


Temple  Crawford  was  not  an  old  and  ugly  woman,  and 
Mrs.  Ammidown  wondered  much  concerning  the  coming 
interview. 

She  closed  the  window  and  sat  down  to  read  the  letter 
Mrs.  Crawford  had  left  for  her  daughter's  warning  and 
guidance. 

Mercer's  horse  galloped  steadily  on.  When  he  was  where 
his  rider  could  see  the  log-house  the  animal  was  suddenly 
hushed  to  a  walk. 

The  windows  of  the  house  were  light,  and  the  door  open. 
When  Mercer  drew  nearer  he  heard  the  girl's  voice  sing- 
ing, 


140  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"Oh,  my  Lawd,  don't  you  forgit  me, 
Oh,  my  Lawd,  don't  you  forgit  me, 
Oh,  my  Lawd,  don't  you  forgit  me, 
Down  by  Bab'lon's  stream  !" 

Another  voice  joined  loudly  in  "  Down  by  Bab'lon's 
stream."  And  then  there  was  a  swift  clapping  of  hands, 
and  melodious,  guttural  exclamations  that  the  man  knew 
could  only  come  from  a  negro, 

Mercer  slipped  down  from  his  horse.  He  stood  a  mo- 
ment with  the  bridle  in  his  hand.  He  lifted  his  cap  and 
gazed  reverently  upward  for  a  brief  space,  asking  help 
from  that  source  of  Almighty  help  which  he  knew  had 
never  failed  him. 

Then  he  let  go  the  bridle.  His  horse  would  stay  near 
until  his  master  came  back. 

Temple  was  standing  before  the  fire.  Her  hands  were 
clasped  above  her  head,  and  she  was  singing  fervently, 
rocking  back  and  forth  from  her  toes  to  her  heels.  On  the 
hearth,  her  knees  drawn  up  and  clasped  by  her  hands,  was 
the  yellow  woman,  who,  when  she  did  not  sing,  released 
her  knees  and  clapped  her  hands  vigorously. 

In  the  instant  that  Mercer  looked  before  he  stepped  for- 
ward. Temple  changed  her  attitude ;  she  took  two  or  three 
wild  dancing  steps  across  the  hearth,  singing  all  the  time, 

"Oh,  my  Lawd,  don't  you  forgit  me." 

Sally  saw  the  minister  first.  She  sprang  to  her  feet  with 
the  agility  of  a  panther. 

"  Lawd  bress  us !"  with  a  broad,  dramatic  gesture. 
"  Hyar's  de  preacher  right  yer  now,  honey !  Look  be- 
hind yo'  !" 

Temple  turned  quickly  as  Mercer  came  forward. 

"  I  hope  you'll  pardon  me.  Miss  Crawford,"  he  said,  wdth 
cold  precision,  "for  coming  at  this  hour.  I  shouldn't  have 
intruded  if  I  hadn't  been  sure  you  had  not  retired.    I  must 


"we  will  fight  together"  141 

tell  you  that  I  felt  it  to  be  my  duty  to  see  you  as  soon  as 
possible." 

Sally's  eyes  were  on  the  speaker.  There  was  something 
peculiar  in  them.  She  did  not  speak  again,  but  walked 
out  of  the  house  and  left  the  two  alone — save  that  Yucatan 
had  come  forward  to  investigate. 

Temple  sat  down  and  looked  up  at  her  visitor,  who  re- 
mained standing,  and  who  also  looked  at  her,  but  with  a 
veiled  gaze  that  made  his  glance  remote  and  impersonal.  / 

He  was  standing  near  a  chair,  but  he  did  not  put  his  hands 
upon  it  as  most  people  would  have  done.     He  thrust  the  ^ 

fingers  of  his  left  hand  into  his  tightly  buttoned  coat.  i'    tf^- 

"  You  know  a  minister  is  interested  in  all  that  con- 
cerns his  people,"  he  said.  "You  are  one  of  my  people 
now."  (y~' 

"  Yes,"  said  Temple. 

"  My  sister  has  just  told  me  of  your  intentions  as  regards 
young  Dalvecker." 

"Yes,"  said  Temple  again.  "Though  I  don't  exactly 
know  what  my  intentions  are  yet." 

"  Your  thoughts,  then.     May  I  talk  freely  with  you  ?" 

"Of  course." 

The  girl  continued  to  gaze  up  at  him.  Mercer  did  not 
change  his  attitude,  but  in  spite  of  himself  there  was  a 
change  in  his  face.  His  glance  became  less  impersonal — 
as  if  his  eyes  were  something  apart  from  him,  something 
which  he  could  not  quite  control.  Suddenly  Temple  rose 
and  exclaimed, 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  have  come !  A  minister  can  advise 
one.  I  think  I  could  do  a  great  deal  of  good  if  I  were 
Link's  wife.     I  suppose  we  are  here  to  db  the  most  good  we 


can. 


Mercer  was  aware  that  his  mouth  was  so  dry  that  his 
tongue  seemed  to  cleave  to  the  roof  of  it.  He  was  aware 
of  this  fact  with  a  deep  and  angry  surprise.  This  girl  was 
nothing  to  him,  absolutely  nothing.  He  was  going  to  treat 
her  precisely  as  if  she  were — well,  as  if  she  were  any  one  of 


142  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

those  unkempt,  dingy-faced  women  with  a  wad  of  snuff 
under  her  lip. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  but  there  are  some  sacrifices  that  God 
would  not  ask  us  to  make." 

"  Are  there  ?  Are  you  sure  ?  God  loves  sacrifice,  doesn't 
He?" 

**  Certainly." 

Having  pronounced  that  one  word,  Mercer  did  not,  for  the 
moment,  attempt  another. 

He  had  seen  this  girl  in  all  for  so  very  brief  a  space  that 
it  was  absurd  that  there  should  be  anything  in  his  mind  but 
a  general  care  for  her  well-being.  He  tried  to  reassure  him- 
self by  thinking,  what  was  the  truth,  that  he  should  be  doing 
this  thing  if  she  had  been  any  other  person  who  was  contem- 
plating what  he  considered  a  wrong  action.  But  somehow 
this  thought  did  not  reinforce  him  as  it  ought. 

He  could  not  help  thinking  of  Temple's  eyes.  Why  were 
they  just  like  that  .-^  What  was  there  in  them?  He  had 
never  in  his  life  asked  these  questions  before,  and  he  had 
never  meant  to  ask  them.  They  also  were  absurd.  He 
was  interested  in  Temple  because  she  had  a  soul  to  be 
saved.  He  told  this  with  great  emphasis  to  himself ;  but 
even  while  he  told  it  he  knew  that  it  was  a  lie ;  and  a  lie  is 
of  the  devil. 

While  he  was  casting  about  in  his  mind  for  some  words 
that  should  smite  with  cutting  strength,  as  with  a  sword. 
Temple  spoke  again. 

"There's  Lincoln  Dalvecker's  eternal  welfare  to  be  con- 
sidered, you  know ;  but  more  than  that,  there  are  the  moun- 
tain people  all  about.  Don't  you  think  I  could  do  them 
good?  Oh  !"  passionately,  "you  can't  know  how  I  long  to 
do  good !" 

Mercer  had  a  painful  conviction  that  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life  he  did  not  understand  himself.  Worse  than  that,  he 
was  not  quite  sure  that  he  securely  held  the  reins  over  his 
neck.  He  was  like  one  dazzled.  That  power  of  personal 
presence  which  others  had  felt  when  with  this  girl,  and  of 


"we  will  fight  together  143 

which  she  was  totally  unconscious,  was  having  its  effect  now 
upon  this  man  who  had  in  his  heart  devoted  himself  to  what 
he  considered  God's  work.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  the 
spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages  in  Richard  Mercer. 

He  made  another  attempt  to  speak,  and  this  time  he 
said, 

"You  are  among  the  mountain  people  now." 

"Yes;  but  you  see,  as  Lincoln's  wife,  I  should  be  identi- 
fied with  them ;  I  could  devote  my  life.  I  could  be  a  mis- 
sionary all  the  time.     I  could  be  the  means  of  saving  souls." 

For  the  first  time  since  he  had  chosen  his  life  work  the 
Rev.  Richard  Mercer  was  aware  that  the  phrase  "  saving 
souls"  failed  to  stir  him  to  enthusiasm. 

"  Don't  you  see  ?"  she  asked. 

"I  think  I  see  what  you  mean,"  he  answered,  coldly. 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  She  was  somehow  dis- 
appointed. She  could  not  understand  why  he  did  not  urge 
her  to  go  on.     But  he  did  not. 

As  she  looked  at  him  a  subtle  change  came  over  her 
mood.     She  suddenly  dropped  her  eyes. 

"  I  wish  you  would  advise  me,"  she  said  with  some  hu- 
mility. Then,  with  timid  interrogation,  "  I  reckon  you're  a 
man  of  God,  ain't  you  ?" 

"  I  try  to  be." 

"  Then  you'll  know  what  to  tell  me." 

Mercer  was  struggling  with  himself  that  he  might  be  able 
to  advise  her  without  the  slightest  reference  to  his  own  feel- 
ing. What  was  the  affair  to  him  personally  ?  Absolutely 
nothing.  When  he  should  have  passed  a  few  months  work- 
ing among  these  people  he  would  go  on  to  another  field,  and 
he  should  never  see  this  girl  again. 

It  was  a  strange  fact  that  the  words  "  never  see  this  girl 
again"  shook  him  as  if  they  had  been  something  tangible. 
Was  it  possible  that  he  had  esteemed  himself  strong  because 
nothing  of  consequence  had  ever  tried  his  strength  ? 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  quickly.  "I  shall  know  what  to  tell 
you.     Don't  marry  that  man.     Don't  do  it.     Is  it  that  you 


144  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

want  a  great  space — much  to  do  ?  Is  it  ?  Answer  me. 
Will  your  enthusiasm  hold  out?     Tell  me." 

Mercer's  eyes  blazed  across  the  space  between  him  and 
the  girl.  He  was  fighting  against  a  primitive,  furious  tempta- 
tion to  go  out  and  throttle  that  yellow-haired  youth,  lest  this 
girl  might  be  persuaded  to  marry  him.  He  wanted  to  be  in 
the  open  air  and  wrestle  alone  against  this  unheard-of  emo- 
tion. The  very  atmosphere  here  was  alive  with  the  pres- 
ence of  Temple. 

Mercer  wished  also  to  stand  there  and  look  at  her — to 
stand  there  forever  and  look  at  her.  He  did  not  under- 
stand it  at  all.  He  did  not  in  the  least  believe  in  anything 
like  this.  No  well-regulated  mind  ever  succumbed  to  any- 
thing of  this  kind. 

His  thoughts  ran  on  in  such  fashion  as  he  stood  there 
meeting  the  glance  of  Temple's  warm-colored,  dark  eyes. 
It  was  impossible  to  tell  whether  eyes  of  such  a  hue  were 
really  warm,  or  only  had  that  appearance.  Temple's  light 
hair  was  rumpled  confusedly.  She  had  rumpled  it  afresh 
when  she  and  Sally  had  been  singing  by  themselves  after 
Miss  Drowdy  had  left  them.  There  was  always  much  of  the 
unusual  in  the  girl's  appearance  ;  perhaps  this  appearance 
was  intensified  now. 

"Will  it  last?" 

Mercer  repeated  his  question  authoritatively. 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Temple,  "I'm  sure  it  will.  Still,  how 
can  I  tell  ?  I  never  experienced  religion  before.  But  Sally 
has.  Only  hers  doesn't  hold  out.  She  has  the  power,  you 
know.     The  Holy  Ghost  gets  right  hold  of  her." 

Temple  said  "  right  holt "  with  an  unconscious  but  perfect 
negro  intonation. 

Mercer  inwardly  shrank  from  these  phrases. 

"  It's  the  helping  others — the  being  of  use — it's  the  ser- 
vice," he  began  quickly,  "  that  tells  whether  the  thing  is  real 
or  not." 

But  Mercer  found  that  he  could  not  go  on  in  that  way. 
He  would  not  make  the  attempt  any  more. 


"we  will  fight   together"  145 

"Do  you  love  young  Dalvecker  ?"  he  asked,  abruptly. 

"  I  like  him  so  much.     And  he's  very — very  respectable." 

"  Do  you  love  him  ?" 

Temple  drew  a  little  nearer. 

"You  see,"  she  said,  in  a  confidential  tone,  "I  don't  be- 
lieve in  that  kind  of  thing.  I  know  better  than  that.  It 
doesn't  amount  to  anything." 

Mercer  was  confounded.  His  sister  had  hinted  at  this. 
But  when  a  man  came  to  stand  opposite  such  a  face  and 
have  the  owner  of  it  speak  in  this  way,  the  effect  was  con- 
fusion. 

Mercer  made  up  his  mind.  And  he  never  hesitated  after 
he  had  decided. 

"  Since  you  feel  that  way,"  he  said,  "  and  since  you  want 
to  work  in  the  vineyard,  marry  me.  Join  me  in  this  glorious 
labor.     We  will  fight  together  on  the  Lord's  side." 


IX 

*'the  chains,  the  shining  chains" 

Temple  was  silent  for  so  long  after  this  rather  peculiar  of- 
fer of  marriage  that  it  became  somewhat  difficult  for  Mercer 
to  maintain  his  impassive  attitude.  He  quite  recognized 
that  it  was  necessary  to  be  impassive.  He  was  so  mascu- 
line— I  had  almost  said  so  blindly  masculine — that  he  be- 
lieved everything  she  said  of  herself.  It  was,  indeed,  evi- 
dent that  she  was  sincere ;  but  a  sincere  person  does  not 
always  know  what  the  truth  is. 

Temple  put  her  hand  up  to  her  head;  she  ran  her  fingers 
through  her  hair.  She  did  not  blush,  as  why  should  she.? 
It  was  only  an  offer  of  partnership  to  which  she  had  listened. 

"Oh,  dear!"  she  exclaimed  at  last,  "I'm  so  confused.  I 
want  to  think  about  what  you  have  proposed." 

And  then  she  remembered  that  she  had  said  something 
like  that  not  many  hours  ago  to  Link  Dalvecker. 

These  two  experiences  coming  in  the  same  evening,  when 
no  one  had  ever  spoken  in  this  way  to  her  in  all  her  life  be- 
fore (for  with  her  young  Boynton  did  not  count),  affected  her 
with  an  irresistible  sense  of  the  ludicrous.  She  was  too  much 
excited  to  control  a  semi-hyslerical  laugh,  and  it  burst  forth. 

Mercer's  face  became  red.  He  drew  himself  up  stiffly. 
He  reached  for  his  hat,  which  he  had  placed  on  the  table. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  It  does  not  seem  to  me 
a  matter  to  excite  laughter." 

Temple  stopped  laughing  instantly,  and  became  very 
grave. 

"  I  hope  you'll  forgive  me,"  she  said,  humbly.  "  I  don't 
know  what  made  me  laua;h.     I  reckon  I  must  be  tired." 


"the  chains,  the  shining  chains"  147 

There  was  so  much  genuine  humility  in  her  voice  and 
manner  that  one  must  necessarily  forgive  her  directly. 

Mercer  stood  with  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

"  I  will  see  you  again  in  a  day  or  two,"  he  said,  now  able 
to  speak  as  if  in  reference  to  a  business  arrangement,  "  and 
you  can  give  me  your  answer.  In  the  meantime  let  me  sug- 
gest to  you  to  bear  in  mind  what  I  have  said  about  the 
wider  field  of  labor  which  you  would  have  as  my  wife.  You 
would  go  with  me — you  would  help  in  the  meetings ;  you 
could  work  acceptably,  I  am  sure.     Good-night." 

Temple  said  "  Good-night"  in  response.  She  went  to  the 
door,  and  saw  the  man  mount  his  horse  and  ride  away.  She 
was  so  tense  with  the  accumulated  excitement  of  the  day 
and  evening  that  she  mistook  that  tenseness  for  strength. 
Strong-nerved  and  full  of  health  as  she  was,  she  did  not  un- 
derstand that  her  excitement  and  her  fatigue  might  now 
make  it  impossible  for  her  to  think  of  any  subject  in  just  pro- 
portion to  all  phases  of  it. 

She  had  returned  to  the  fire,  and  was  standing  before  it, 
thinking  that,  after  all,  she  was  not  tired  in  the  least,  and 
that  it  was  now  so  late  that  she  need  not  go  to  bed  that 
night,  when  the  door  leading  into  the  next  room  opened,  and 
Almina  appeared.  She  had  her  big  blanket-shawl  wrapped 
about  her  ;  her  bare  feet  were  thrust  into  her  boots,  whose 
heels  clicked  on  the  boards  as  she  came  forward,  with  an  air 
of  being  ready  to  fly  backward  on  the  instant. 

"  There  ain't  no  man  here  now,  is  there  ?"  she  asked. 

"Oh  no." 

"  And  you  ain't  expectin'  no  more  of  'em?" 

"Oh  no." 

"Then  I  do  wish  you'd  jest  shut  that  outside  door.  I 
ain't  hardly  seen  it  shut  sence  I've  been  here.  'N'  I  want 
to  set  down  by  the  fire  a  minute.  I  can't  sleep.  I'm  jes'  's 
nervous  's  I  c'n  be.  It  always  did  make  me  nervous  to  go 
to  a  revival  meet'n'.  But  I  wouldn't  miss  one  for  anything 
in  the  world." 

Temple  closed  the  door.     She  came  back  and  wrapped 


148  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Miss  Drowdy's  shawl  carefully  about  the  thin,  shivering 
shoulders.  The  Yankee  woman  was  painfully  conscious  that 
she  was  not  yet  herself;  that  she  "  hadn't  got  her  bearings" 
since  she  had  come  to  Carolina. 

It  was  to  her  like  being  in  another  world.  Her  shrewd 
sense  had  not  had  time  to  assert  itself. 

And  to  live  in  a  house  where  the  outside  door  was  never 
shut !  And  where  there  was  no  up-stairs !  She  was  trying 
to  wait  patiently  until  her  senses  should  come  back  to  her. 
She  had  written  home  to  her  sister  in  Hoyt  that  she  ap- 
peared to  be  underwitted  since  she  came  to  Limestone 
Township ;  but  then,  she  had  added,  "  maybe  I've  always 
been  underwitted,  only  I  hadn't  found  it  out." 

It  is  not  soothing  to  a  person's  self  consciousness  to  make 
such  a  discovery. 

"  I  thought  I  saw  a  man  riding  dow^n  the  slope,"  said  Miss 
Drowdy. 

" 'Twas  the  minister,"  said  the  girl. 

Almina  felt  more  underwitted  than  ever.  She  gazed  at 
Temple  to  see  if  she  could  detect  any  sign  that  it  was  an  un- 
usual thing  for  a  minister  to  make  a  midnight  call  on  a 
young  lady.     But  she  could  see  no  such  sign. 

"  Ain't  it — ain't  it  ruther  late  for  calls  V 

Almina  put  the  inquiry  feebly.  She  did  not  know  what 
was  the  proper  point  of  view. 

"  I  don't  know  what  time  it  is,"  replied  Temple,  care- 
lessly. 

"  It's  goin'  on  one  o'clock,"  was  the  solemn  response. 

"  Oh,  is  it  ?"  still  more  carelessly. 

"Yes,  it  is.  And  it  don't  seem  proper  to  me,  exactly — " 
began  Almina.  But  she  paused,  for  Temple  was  not  a 
girl  to  whom  to  talk  concerning  conventions  and  propri- 
eties. 

"  I  s'pose  he  come  about  your  soul,"  finished  Almina. 

It  would  certainly  be  proper  to  come  at  any  time  about 
one's  soul. 

Temple  was  sitting  on  the  hearth  opposite  her  guest.    She 


"  THE    CHAINS,  THE    SHINING    CHAINS  "  149 

had  her  hands  clasped  over  her  head.  She  was  thinking 
that  she  was  glad  Miss  Drowdy  was  with  her.  She  was  in 
the  mood  to  consult  her.  She  particularly  liked  to  get  peo- 
ple's ideas,  and  then  do  exactly  as  she  pleased.  She  had  a 
way  of  asking  a  person's  opinion  as  if  the  opinion  would 
have  weight  with  her — and  sometimes  it  did  have  weight, 
for  a  few  hours. 

"You  see,  I'm  all  alone,"  she  began,  "for  Sally  couldn't 
advise  me.  Mr.  Mercer  told  me  he  thought  I  could  do  a 
great  deal  of  good  if  I  married  him  and  helped  him  in  his 
work.  And  before  that,  Link  Dalvecker,  you  know — or  don't 
you  know  ? — thought  I  could  be  sure  to  save  his  soul  if  I 
married  him.     So  you  see — " 

Up  to  this  point  the  girl  had  been  deeply  serious  ;  but  now 
her  sense  of  humor  suddenly  came  uppermost  again,  and  she 
began  to  laugh  excitedly. 

But  Almina  did  not  laugh.  She  bent  forward  towards  her 
companion,  her  shawl  wrapped  so  tightly  about  her  that  she 
looked  like  a  stick. 

"  Do  you  love  either  of  them  ?"  she  asked,  with  intense 
seriousness. 

Temple  stopped  laughing. 

"  Oh,  how  odd  it  is  !"  she  exclaimed.  "Why  do  you  and 
Mrs.  Ammidown  ask  that  the  first  thing?  And  Mr.  Mercer 
wanted  to  know  if  I  loved  Link.  Now,  you  see,"  in  an  elu- 
cidating and  argumentative  manner,  "it's  rather  foolish 
than  otherwise  to  be  in  love.  Because,  you  see,  if  you  are, 
you  get  over  it  very  soon,  and  settle  right  down  to  friend- 
ship ;  so  why  not  begin  with  friendship  ?  Then  you  wouldn't 
be  disappointed  or  grieved  if  your  husband  stopped  being  in 
love  with  you  first.  It  would  all  be  understood  and  settled 
at  the  very  beginning." 

Almina  gradually  sank  back  in  her  chair  as  she  listened. 
She  was  thinking,  among  other  things,  of  that  doctor  up  at 
home  who  had  asked  her  to  be  his  wife,  and  whom  "  there 
was  nothing  against."  That  there  was  nothing  against  him 
had  been  reason  enough,  apparently,  why  she  should  say  yes 


150  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

to  him.  But  somehow  she  couldn't  say  yes.  Had  she  been 
wrong  ?     Here  was  this  young  girl — 

At  this  point  in  her  thoughts  Almina  stared  yet  more  in- 
tently at  the  girlish,  strong  face  before  her.  She  supposed 
the  world  must  be  changing,  and  she  herself,  not  changing 
with  it,  was  getting  so  old-fashioned  that  she  could  no  longer 
understand.  Perhaps  young  men  and  women  did  not  in 
these  days  fall  in  love  with  each  other.  They  arrange  a 
bargain,  a  partnership,  and  therefore  there  was  no  more  any 
sharp  disillusion.     Which  way  was  better  } 

If  Almina  had  been  asleep  she  would  have  thought  she 
was  now  dreaming.  But  a  revival  meeting,  as  has  been 
stated,  was  sure  to  keep  her  awake.     She  rubbed  her  eyes. 

"I  guess  I  ain't  very  wise,''  she  remarked.  ''I  guess  it 
ain't  worth  while  for  you  to  try  to  explain  anything.  It 
wouldn't  pay." 

Temple's  eyes  were  so  bright,  they  gleamed  so ;  her  face 
was  so  pale,  her  lips  so  red,  that  Almina  was  tempted  to 
recommend  valerian,  or  something  of  that  sort.  But  she 
reflected  that  the  girl  had  strong  reasons  for  being  excited ; 
had  she  not  just  experienced  religion,  and  had  not  the 
preacher  just  offered  marriage,  not  to  speak  of  Dalvecker's 
proposal  ? 

Temple  clasped  her  hands  over  her  head  again,  and 
walked  quickly  a  few  times  back  and  forth  along  the  hearth. 

"  But,  you  see,  I  want  to  make  you  understand,"  she  said. 
"  Somebody's  got  to  understand.  I  shall  be  wild  if  I  can't 
talk  it  over  with  somebody." 

"  I  should  say  you  were  kind  of  wild  now,"  said  the  elder 
woman. 

"  It  seems  as  if  I  couldn't  have  chances  enough  to  do 
good,"  said  Temple,  not  noticing  her  companion's  words. 
"  I  long  to  work  for  the  salvation  of  everybody.  I  want  them 
to  know  what  it  is  to  have  the  Holy  Ghost  descend  into 
their  hearts.  I  believe  I  could  help  convert  people.  And, 
you  see,  if  I  should  be  a  preacher's  wife  I  should  have  so 
much  more  chance.     I  could  work  for  more  people.     I  al- 


"the    chains,   the    shining    chains"  151 

most  think  I  have  the  gift  to  rouse.  Do  you  think  I  have 
the  gift  to  rouse,  Miss  Drowdy?" 

"  Oh,  dear !  I  should  certainly  think  so  !  If  you  don't 
have  it  I'm  sure  I  can't  tell  who  has,"  was  the  answer.  Al- 
mina  added,  questioningly,  "  I  s'pose  you've  about  made  up 
your  mind  to  have  him,  'ain't  you  .'*" 

Instead  of  answering,  Temple  knelt  down  and  flung  her 
arms  across  the  big  chair  in  front  of  her.  She  began  to 
pray  aloud.  Miss  Drowdy  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hand 
and  listened,  and  as  she  listened  she  thrilled  in  response  to 
the  passionate  words  of  entreaty  and  adoration  and  thanks 
which  came  pouring  from  the  girl's  heart  through  her  lips. 

When  the  words  ceased  Almina  rose  quickly  ;  she  went 
and  flung  her  arms  about  Temple.  The  woman  was  sob- 
bing with  emotion, 

"  It  seems,"  she  said,  brokenly,  "  as  if  you  had  a  great 
work  before  you." 

Temple  did  not  speak ;  indeed,  she  could  not.  She  lay 
with  her  face  pressed  down  upon  the  chair. 

Yucatan,  who  had  been  listening  uneasily  throughout  the 
entire  petition,  now  ventured  to  go  to  the  side  of  his  mis- 
tress. He  sniffed  at  her  hair,  then  he  dropped  his  head  and 
gently  licked  one  of  her  hands,  which  hung  down  from  the 
chair. 

The  dog's  touch  made  the  girl  stir.  In  a  moment  she 
rose. 

"  I'm  going  out,"  she  said.  "  I  must  go  out  under  God's 
heaven." 

She  looked  round  for  her  hat.  Yucatan,  who  never  failed 
to  understand  the  phrase  "going  out,"  began  to  wag  his  tail. 
He  also  looked  about  for  the  same  thing.  It  was  one  of  his 
most  delightful  privileges  to  bring  her  hat  to  his  friend,  and 
he  always  availed  himself  of  an  opportunity. 

He  presently  made  a  dive  at  a  distant  corner  and  re- 
turned with  the  felt  in  his  mouth,  wagging  his  tail  violently. 

"  But  is  it  safe — so  late  ?"  anxiously  asked  Almina. 

"  Ask  Yucatan  if  it's  safe,"  was  the  answer. 


152  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Temple  and  the  clog  left  the  house.  Almina  saw  them  go 
quickly  along  the  pasture-land  farther  up  the  mountain. 
From  that  pasture  she  had  already  learned  could  be  had  a 
far  extended  view  of  the  peaks  round  about.  Those  peaks 
were  now  standing  in  a  glory  of  moonlight.  The  valleys 
were  lying,  dark  and  mysterious,  between. 

Almina,  as  she  stood  looking  forth  from  the  door,  shiv- 
ered with  lonsfins  and  dread. 

She  pulled  her  shawl  again  about  her  shrinking  shoulders. 

''  I  declare,"  she  said,  in  a  whisper,  "  there  ain't  a  thing 
here  as  'tis  up  in  Hoyt." 

She  closed  the  door,  and  went  to  her  chair  by  the  fire. 
She  huddled  herself  down  in  it,  and  spread  out  her  hands  to 
the  blaze.  She  would  have  preferred  to  go  to  bed,  but  she 
felt  it  her  duty  to  sit  up  for  Temple.  She  also  felt  it  to  be 
extremely  uncertain  when  that  person  would  return.  She 
rather  admired  the  girl  for  going  off  in  that  way.  Almina 
remembered  that  there  had  been  several  times  in  her  own 
life  when  it  would  have  been  a  great  relief  if  she  could  have 
run  away  like  that.  But  in  Hoyt  folks  stopped  at  home^ 
and  worked,  and  talked  just  the  same  as  usual,  no  matter 
what  happened. 

When,  two  hours  later.  Temple  came  back,  her  face  calm 
and  exalted  from  her  communion  with  the  mountains,  a  deep, 
still  radiance  in  her  eyes,  she  found  her  guest  sound  asleep 
in  the  arm-chair  before  the  coals  on  the  hearth. 

Temple  did  not  disturb  her.  The  girl  did  not  think  it  was 
worth  while  to  go  to  her  own  room.  Already  on  the  eastern 
verge  of  the  world  there  were  coming  some  faint,  pearl  hues 
of  morning,  but  morning  would  still  linger  long  before  really 
arriving.  The  girl  took  a  shawl  and  wrapped  it  about  her. 
Conventional  in  nothing,  she  laid  herself  down  on  the  warm 
hearth.  The  Newfoundland  immediately  placed  his  huge 
bulk  beside  her.  In  five  minutes  the  dog  and  his  mistress 
were  asleep. 

The  sunlight  had  been  warm  for  two  or  three  hours  on  the 
front  of  the  log-house  when  the  yellow  woman,  a  pipe  be- 


"the  chains,  the  shining  chains  153 

tween  her  teeth  and  with  her  hands  on  her  hips,  came  with 
long,  slow  strides  from  her  cabin. 

She  gently  pushed  open  the  door  and  looked  in. 

Almina  returned  the  look  silently.  Then  she  rose  and 
made  her  way  noiselessly  outside.  She  was  trembling  with 
what  she  called  a  "complete  unstrungness." 

"  For  the  land's  sake,"  she  whispered,  "  if  you've  got  any 
tea,  make  me  a  cup  as  strong  as  Samson." 

The  two  walked  towards  the  other  cabin. 

Sally  took  her  pipe  from  her  mouth. 

"  I'm  done  shore  der  ain't  no  tea,"  she  said.  "  I  war 
aimin'  ter  go  ter  Asheville,  an'  when  I  went  I  aimed  ter  git 
tea,  fur  shore.  1*11  meek  yo'  er  cup  er  cawfy  'fore  yo'  c'n 
wink,  ef  yo'  say  der  word." 

Sally  looked  with  patronizing  pity  at  her  companion. 
Miss  Drowdy  could  not  ride,  she  couldn't  tramp  up  and 
down  mountains,  and  she  preferred  tea  to  "cawfy."  Still, 
Sally  was  aware  that  she  liked  the  "  pore  little  Yankee." 

While  the  coffee  was  brewing,  and  while  Sally  was  frying 
some  bacon  to  go  with  it,  Almina  walked  about  in  front  of 
the  house.  There  were  still  some  wreaths  of  mist  floating 
here  and  there  on  the  mountain-sides.  Miss  Drowdy  was 
gazing  about  her,  carefully  holding  up  her  skirts  as  she 
did  so. 

As  she  gazed  she  heard,  very  much  softened  by  the  dis- 
tance, the  sound  of  a  violin  from  the  direction  of  the  French 
Broad. 

"There's  that  fiddling  feller  of  Temple's,"  she  said  to  her- 
self    "  I  wonder  if  he's  expecting  her.  " 

She  suddenly  forgot  her  extreme  need  of  nourishment  or 
stimulant.  She  walked  along  the  path  she  had  once  before 
taken  when  she  had  followed  Temple  down  to  the  river.  As 
she  came  nearer  the  music  sounded  still  more  clearly,  and 
she  was  presently  aware  that  the  player  was  also  singing. 
She  could  not  catch  the  words,  but  she  stopped  to  listen, 
and  as  she  listened  a  smile  came  to  her  face.  She  had  so 
decided  a  vein  of  sentiment  in  her  make-up  that  she  was 


154  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

conscious  now  of  a  slight  pang  in  regard  to  this  young  man. 
What  could  a  girl  who  was  contemplating  life  as  Temple 
was  now  contemplating  it  do  with  a  young  man  with  a  fiddle? 

As  Miss  Drowdy  walked  on  very  slowly,  the  song  ceased, 
and  presently  there  was  the  sound  of  footsteps  approaching 
rapidly.  The  next  moment  Yale  Boynton  pushed  impatient- 
ly through  the  rhododendron  shrubs  and  came  forward. 

There  was  a  warm  eagerness  on  his  face  which  instantly 
gave  way  to  an  extremely  visible  annoyance. 

He  took  off  his  hat  as  he  exclaimed, 

"  Oh  !  I  saw  a  woman's  gown  among  the  bushes  ;  I  hoped 
— I  thought — I — " 

He  stopped  and  looked  crossly  beyond  his  companion,  as 
if  seeking  for  some  one. 

"  I  guess  youVe  looking  for  Miss  Crawford,"  remarked 
Almina. 

"  Yes.  She  let  me  think  she  would  be  down  to  the  Broad 
this  morning,"  was  the  reply, 

Almina  indulgently  gazed  at  the  handsome,  youthful  face 
before  her  with  its  frown  and  the  vexed  look  in  the  eyes. 

"  She  hadn't  waked  up  when  I  came  out,"  she  said. 

"  Hadn't  waked  .''"  exclaimed  Boynton. 

He  frowned ;  he  ground  his  heel  into  the  soft,  black 
mould. 

"No,"  said  Almina;  "she  didn't  get  to  sleep  very  early, 
and  she  was  mighty  tired." 

"  I  didn't  get  to  sleep  early,  either,  and  I  was  tired  too," 
was  the  response,  "but  I  was  out  starting  from  Asheville  on 
time,  you  may  believe.  I  want  to  see  her.  Is  she  going  to 
sleep  all  day,  do  you  think.?" 

The  speaker  was  so  pretty,  and  so  disappointed,  that 
Almina  did  not  resent  his  petulance,  and  she  supposed  that 
he  must  be  very  much  in  love. 

As  he  spoke  Boynton  was  still  gazing  beyond  Miss 
Drowdy  and  towards  the  house.  His  face  changed  sud- 
denly; his  eyes  sparkled.  He  took  a  step  forward,  then 
waited. 


"the    chains,   the   shining    chains"  155 

Almina  turned,  and  saw  Temple  coming  towards  them. 
The  girl's  face  was  flushed  ;  one  cheek  was  of  a  deep  crim- 
son ;  her  eyes  still  had  in  them  a  cloudy,  sleepy  expression. 
When  within  a  few  yards  she  stopped  and  passed  her  hands 
over  her  face,  yawning  as  she  did  so. 

Almina  suddenly  remembered  her  breakfast,  and  hurried 
towards  it. 

"  I  done  forgot !"  cried  Temple. 

"That's  just  like  you;  but  I  didn't  forget.  I  couldn't. 
Do  you  think  I  shouldn't  remember  every  minute  that  I  was 
going  to  meet  you  this  morning,  and  that  you  were  going 
to  finish  learning  the  '  Kerry  Dance'  ?  Say,  do  you  think  I 
shouldn't  remember  ?" 

Temple  was  looking  at  the  young  man  with  a  feeling  of 
surprise  and  self-questioning. 

She  could  not  understand  now  how  she  had  been  inter- 
ested in  him  at  all.  It  really  must  have  been  pleasant  for 
her  to  be  with  him — yes,  it  must  have  been.  But  it  appeared 
impossible  now. 

"  How  odd  you  look !"  he  cried.  She  made  no  answer 
to  this,  and  he  added,  "  Come,  let's  go  down  to  the  boat. 
My  violin's  there." 

She  did  not  reply  to  this,  either.  She  was  trying  to  ad- 
just herself  to  the  fact  that  he  could  not  excite  her  interest 
any  more. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  he  asked,  brusquely.  "  What 
makes  you  look  like  that  ?  Where  were  you  last  evening  ? 
Something  seems  to  have  come  over  you.  I  say,  you  don't 
know  what  a  jolly  lunch  I've  got  for  you." 

He  put  out  his  hand  as  if  to  lead  her  down  the  path.  But 
she  did  not  apparently  see  the  hand. 

She  replied  to  one  of  his  inquiries, 

"  I  was  to  preaching,  down  in  the  school-house,"  she  said. 

"To  preaching?"  He  laughed.  "Oh,  by  Jove!  now, 
I  wish  I'd  been  there.  I've  always  meant  to  go.  But 
somehow  I  never  did.  I  reckon  'twas  a  rousing  time, 
wasn't  it  ?" 


156  AGAINST   HUMAN    NATURE 

"  Yes,  it  was." 

Temple  spoke  so  coldly  that  her  companion  began  to  be 
frightened.     He  scowled  again. 

"  I  got  religion,"  the  girl  said. 

"  The  deuce  !     Oh,  that's  too  bad  !" 

"  You  needn't  speak  like  that." 

"  That's  too  infernally  bad !  And  I  can't  believe  it," 
persisted  the  youth. 

"  You  ought  to  be  glad  of  it." 

"  It  isn't  going  to  last,  is  it .'"' 

"  I  hope  so." 

"  But  it  doesn't  usually,  does  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.     I  only  know  it  ought." 

"  Ought  ?  Why,  Temple  Crawford,  don't  you  know  it 
spoils  any  one .'"' 

The  girl  had  her  hat  under  her  arm.  She  now  put  it  on 
her  head,  pushed  up  the  brim,  and  half  turned  from  the 
young  man,  her  eyes  wandering  over  the  mountains.  After 
the  excitement  of  the  previous  night  she  was  suffering  from 
a  reaction.  But  she  did  not  know  why  she  was  so  depressed 
and  listless.  She  had  a  vague  idea  that  this  depression  was 
because  of  sin. 

"  I  hope  it  does  spoil  people  for  this  world,"  she  said, 
after  a  pause. 

"  So  you're  going  to  talk  that  way,  are  you  ?  Well, 
as  long's  I'm  in  this  world  I  don't  want  to  be  spoiled 
for  it." 

The  young  man  spoke  vehemently.  He  was  aware  of  a 
painful  stinging  in  his  eyes  and  a  compression  upon  his 
throat.  He  was  looking  fixedly  at  the  face  near  him.  He 
perceived  that  it  was  strangely  remote.  Indeed,  it  hardly 
seemed  like  the  face  of  Temple  Crawford. 

But  the  attraction  of  the  girl's  personality  was  still  as 
strong  as  ever  over  him — stronger,  since  he  began  to  fear 
she  was  removing  herself  from  him. 

She  did  not  reply.  She  continued  to  look  off  at  the 
Twin  Brothers,  upon  whose  heads  the  clouds  were  settling. 


"the  chains,  the  shining  chains"  157 

Boynton  was  furiously  conscious  that  she  did  not  know  he 
was  looking  at  her. 

"  I  hope  you're  not  going  to  give  up  the  '  Kerry  Dancing/ 
are  you  ?"  he  asked,  speaking  as  amiably  as  possible. 

"  Of  course." 

"  And  your  violin  ?" 

"  I  haven't  decided  that  yet.  I  haven't  had  time  to  make 
up  my  mind." 

"  Perhaps  the  preacher  will  tell  you  what  to  do  with  your 
fiddle,"  sneering.     "Who  is  the  preacher?" 

"  Mr.  Richard  Mercer." 

And  here  Temple  recalled  something  there  had  been  in 
Mr.  Mercers  face,  and  she  blushed,  and  then  blushed  again 
with  irritation. 

"  Oh,  I  know  about  him.  He  won't  let  you  have  your 
fiddle,  you  may  be  sure  of  that." 

"  I  hope  I  can  give  it  up,  though  I  do  love  it  a  great  deal !" 

"  Are  you  going  to  hold  on  to  your  horse  and  dogs .''" 

Temple  put  her  hands  together. 

"  Oh  !  Surely  there  is  no  need  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  I — 
I — it  would  hurt  very  much  to  give  them  up." 

She  turned  with  an  involuntary  movement  towards  Yuca- 
tan, who  had  followed  her  from  the  house.  She  looked  at 
him  in  silence. 

"  I  reckon  Mercer's  the  kind  of  man  that  '11  advise  you  to 
give  up  a  thing  you  like  just  because  you  do  like  it !  I 
swear  there's  no  sense  in  the  whole  business !  Can't  you 
look  at  a  fellow.  Miss  Crawford,  as  though  you  knew  he  was 
in  the  same  world  with  you .'"' 

Temple  turned  her  eyes  to  the  clouded  face  near  her. 

"  I  reckon  you  don't  consider  it's  wicked  to  eat,  do  you, 
even  though  you've  got  religion  ?" 

This  question  recalled  to  Temple  the  fact  that  she  was 
hungry.  Her  last  meal  had  been  not  long  after  noon  of 
the  day  before.  The  meals  in  the  Crawford  residence  oc- 
curred at  the  most  irregular  intervals.  One  could  not  cal- 
culate on  them  in  the  least. 


158  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"I'm  hungry,  I  do  believe,"  said  Temple. 

Bo3'nton's  face  brightened. 

"  Then  come  down  to  the  boat.  I  told  you  I  had  a  jolly 
lunch.  Some  of  those  fat  liver  pie  things — I  thought  we'd 
try  them — and  two  bottles  of  lager.     Come." 

Boynton  turned,  and  held  back  some  of  the  branches  of 
the  thick-growing  shrubs  that  Temple  might  pass.  The 
two  went  down  to  the  old  tiee  trunk  which  made  the  land- 
ing. The  young  man  hurried  as  if  he  feared  that  his  com- 
panion might  suddenly  decide  not  to  accompany  him.  But 
Temple  did  not  think  of  going  back.  She  sprang  into  the 
boat  moored  there.  She  beckoned  to  Yucatan,  who  imme- 
diately followed  her,  and  sat  down  gravely  in  the  bottom  of 
the  craft  with  the  air  of  having  to  be  very  careful  lest  he 
might  overturn  the  whole  thing. 

The  violin  was  lying  on  the  stern  seat.  Temple  lifted  the 
instrument  and  held  it  tenderly,  passing  her  fingers  over  the 
strings,  and  bringing  out  a  musical  clash  of  sound. 

The  young  man  looked  at  her  furtively.  He  smiled  faint- 
ly, but  was  careful  that  she  should  not  see  that  he  did  so. 

He  opened  a  bottle  of  beer,  filled  a  travelling-cup,  and 
gravely  handed  it  to  her,  saying, 

"You  look  awfully  tired.  Drink  that,  while  I  get  the 
grub  out  of  the  basket." 

Temple  put  the  violin  across  her  lap,  and  then  drank. 

The  soft  wind  blew  freshly  down  the  river.  The  mists 
upon  the  heights  began  to  lift  again  and  drift  away  as  the 
sun  grew  stronger. 

The  girl  felt  that  her  mood  was  changing.  She  was  none 
the  less  resolved  about  religion,  but  religion  did  not  seem 
to  require  so  much  in  a  certain  way. 

She  still  retained  the  violin  as  she  ate,  with  keen  relish, 
the  rather  indiscriminate  lunch  Boynton  had  brought. 

Her  spirits  rose  higher  and  higher.  But  she  did  not  talk 
much.  She  smiled  at  her  companion's  chatter.  The  ex- 
pression of  extreme  weariness  left  her  face.  She  was  be- 
ginning to  appreciate  the  pleasure  of  this  relaxation. 


"  THE    CHAINS,  THE    SHINING    CHAINS  I59 

As  for  Boynton,  his  heart  was  bounding  again.  He  was 
in  the  habit  of  telUng  himself  that  he  knew  girls  rather  well. 
He  had  been  quite  frightened  this  morning,  however.  What 
a  hideous  arrangement  it  would  be  if  Temple  should  take  a 
fanc}^  to  keep  up  that  notion  about  religion !  But  she  was 
coming  out  of  it  all  right. 

He  was  shrewd  enough  not  to  return  to  the  topic.  He 
now  gazed  openly  at  the  girl  in  the  stern.  Still  he  could 
not  please  himself  with  the  idea  that  she  was  thinking  of  him. 

In  fact,  she  had  fallen  into  one  of  her  states  of  what 
might  almost  be  called  semi-trance,  when  mere  existence 
was  a  joy  so  intense  as  to  be  somewhat  oppressive. 

There  was  in  her  possession  the  river,  the  sunlight,  the 
great  Appalachian  range,  and  life. 

Boynton  gently  took  his  fiddle  from  her  knees.  He  put 
it  under  his  chin  and  drew  his  bow  tentatively  across  the 
strings,  his  eyes  on  the  girl. 

In  a  moment  he  began  to  play  and  sing  in  half-tones,  as 
one  might  say. 

At  first  Temple  did  not  notice  what  it  was  he  sang  ;  she 
only  knew  that  it  was  nothing  which  made  any  discord  with 
her  mood.  Indeed,  Boynton  had  too  good  taste  to  run  any 
risk  in  his  selection. 

But  he  was  so  relieved  to  find  that  she  did  not  insist  on 
seeming  as  she  had  seemed  up  there  among  the  rhododen- 
drons, that  he  became  a  bit  more  reckless  than  he  had  been 
before. 

Hitherto  he  had  tried  to  have  before  him  the  undoubted 
fact  that  this  girl  who  lived  in  the  wilderness,  and  who 
went  riding  about  in  such  a  dare-devil  way,  was  a  girl  to 
flirt  with,  perhaps,  but  not  to  marry. 

But  now  the  conviction  had  come  upon  him  with  great 
force  that  there  was  no  other  woman  in  the  world  whom  he 
could  possibly  think  of  marrying. 

He  could  not  help  believing,  also,  that,  if  he  should  con- 
fess this  state  of  mind,  Temple  would  agree  with  him. 
Still— 


l6o  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

The  doubt  that  would  obtrude  itself  made  his  exceedins:- 
ly  sweet  tenor  voice  even  sweeter  than  ever,  and  his  hand- 
some young  face  handsomer  than  ever. 

This  was  what  he  murmured  in  his  tenor  voice  at  the 
girl: 

"  Oh,  blest  be  he  !     Oh,  blest  be  he  ! 
Let  him  all  blessings  prove, 
Who  made  the  chains,  the  shining  chains, 
The  holy  chains  of  love  !" 

Boynton  sang  these  lines  and  then  was  silent  for  a  mo- 
ment, making  a  little  interlude  on  the  strings. 

He  was  irritated  that  he  could  not  in  the  least  tell  whether 
his  companion  had  heard  him  or  not.  She  did  not  change 
her  attitude  of  lounging  in  the  stern,  with  one  arm  over  the 
Newfoundland  who  sat  beside  her ;  her  face  was  turned  up 
the  river. 

Boynton  sighed  deeply  and  ostentatiously.  Then  he 
began  again  : 

"  Oh,  blest  be  he  !     Oh,  blest  be  he  ! " 

and  sang  the  words  even  more  insistently. 

He  made  a  little  clang  with  his  instrument  as  he  finished, 
and  he  almost  dashed  it  down  beside  him. 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  girl  !"  he  cried.  "  You  don't  seem 
to  have  any  heart.  Can't  you  look  at  me?  All  this  scenery 
is  going  to  be  here  right  along,  but  I  shall  have  to  go 
away." 

Temple  turned  her  eyes  towards  him. 

"Have  you  heard  a  word  I've  been  singing?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh  yes.  It  was  all  about  the  chains,  the  shining  chains, 
the  holy  chains." 

"  Of  love,"  added  Boynton,  significantly. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  was  of  love,"  responded  Temple. 

The  young  man  snatched  up  the  fiddle  again.  And  now 
he  did  not  veil  his  voice,  but  sang,  sonorously : 


"the  chains,  the  shining  chains"  i6i 

"  If  you  love  a  lady  bright. 

Seek  and  you  shall  find  a  way. 

All  that  love  should  say,  to  say, 

If  you  watch  the  occasion  right." 

Having  finished  this  song,  Boynton  leaned  towards  Temple, 
who  did  not  seem  to  see  that  he  did  so.  She  glanced  at  him 
and  laughed  a  little. 

"  It's  quite  funny  that  so  many  of  your  songs  should  be 
so  very  sentimental,"  she  said. 

Boynton  drew  himself  up. 

"I  don't  think  it's  funny  at  all,"  he  responded.  "And 
let  me  tell  you  one  thing,  Miss  Crawford  :  I've  resolved  to 
watch  the  occasion  right." 

She  laughed  again  at  this  remark;  she  made  no  other  re- 
ply.    And  she  did  not  notice  how  he  flushed  and  scowled. 

She  took  up  the  violin.  She  held  it  lovingly  across  her 
lap,  and,  still  holding  it  thus,  as  some  women  violinists  do, 
she  began  to  play.  She  sang  out  strongly  arrd  with  a  note 
of  victory,  as  befitted  the  words  : 

"Summer  is  a-coming  in, 

Loud  sing,  cuckoo  ; 
Groweth  seed  and  bloometh  mead, 
And  springeth  the  wood  now. 

Sing,  cuckoo,  cuckoo." 

"You  see,  one  needn't  always  be  sentimental  and  love- 
sick.    Love  is  only  a  small  part  of  life." 

She  spoke  the  last  words  with  an  ominous  seriousness. 
She  extended  the  instrument. 

"  Take  your  fiddle,"  she  said.  "  It's  wicked  to  fritter 
away  one's  days  in  this  way.  I  want  to  do  some  good  work 
for  the  Lord.  I  want  to  help  bring  souls  to  the  right  way. 
Yale  Boynton,  you  needn't  frown.  Just  tell  me  if  you  don't 
think  about  saving  your  soul,  and  about  doing  all  the  good 
you  can  ?" 

Impossible  to  resist  the  manner,  the  intonation — all  the 


II 


l62  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

more  impossible  because  Temple  was  so  unconscious  of 
what  her  manner  and  intonation  were. 

Boynton  pushed  out  his  under-lip.  He  wished  he  were 
not  in  a  boat  which  would  wobble  so  if  he  threw  himself  at 
his  companion's  feet. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "I  think  about  doing  good  sometimes; 
but  you'll  find  it's  all  bosh  about  experiencing  religion  and 
that  rot." 

"  Stop !  Don't  you  know  I've  experienced  ?  And  it's 
going  to  make  a  difference  with  me,  too.  You  may  not 
think  so,  but  it  is.  I  sha'n't  come  down  here  to  meet  you 
any  more,  for  one  thing.  I  think  it's  frivolous,  and  I  sha'n't 
do  it.  I'm  going  back  now.  You've  been  mighty  kind,  Mr. 
Boynton,"  relenting  somewhat,  "  to  teach  me  to  play,  and 
to  bring  sandwiches  and  beer  and  such.  And  I'm  much 
obliged.     But  I'm  going  to  think  of  other  things." 

"  What  things  ?"  asked  Boynton. 

There  was  a  stubborn  look  on  his  face.  He  extended 
his  hand  and  took  hold  of  Temple's  arm,  for  she  had  risen 
as  if  to  leave  immediately. 


WITH    DALVECKER 

Temple  stood  perfectly  still.  She  would  not  try  to  go 
while  her  arm  was  held  thus.  But  she  resented  the 
touch,  and  Boynton  was  discerning  enough  to  see  that  re- 
sentment. 

His  hand  dropped. 

"What  other  things  are  you  going  to  do?''  he  repeated. 
"  I  should  think  you  might  tell  me.  I'm  a  human  being  as 
well  as  all  the  people  you  are  going  to  convert.  Do  stay  a 
minute  longer.  Don't  you  consider  that  my  soul  is  worth 
saving?  Because  if  you  don't  think  so,  I  do.  Now,  Tem- 
ple Crawford,  be  a  little  bit  kind  to  me,  can't  you .?" 

He  was  very  boyish  and  very  pleading.  It  suddenly 
occurred  to  him  to  take  her  at  her  word. 

"What's  the  matter' with  me  that  you  can't  begin  by 
making  me  over  and  helping  me  to  get  religion  ?  Don't 
you  call  me  worth  saving,  I  should  like  to  know?"  With 
insistent  repetition. 

"  Everybody  is  worth  saving,"  she  answered.  "  God  loves 
everybody." 

At  first  Boynton  could  hardly  believe  that  she  was  seri- 
ous. It  seemed  incredible  to  him  that  this  woman,  who  had 
seemed  to  have  such  a  wild  flow  of  animal  spirits,  should 
really  have  taken  up  this  fad.  He  called  the  change  a  fad 
in  the  privacy  of  his  own  mind. 

He  gazed  at  her  with  a  sharp  inquiry  in  his  eyes.  Cer- 
tainly there  was  something  in  her  face  that  he  had  never  seen 
before.  And  whatever  that  something  was,  it  was  accom- 
panied by  a  good   deal  of  resolution.     He  considered  it  a 


l64  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

rather  curious  fact  that  he  felt  more  drawn  to  her  than 
ever.  The  fact  that  there  seemed  to  be  a  barrier  rising  be- 
tween them  had  the  effect  of  stimulating  into  a  stronger  life 
what  had  first  appeared  to  be  only  a  fancy. 

Boynton's  face  partook  of  what  he  called  the  "deadly  ear- 
nestness "  of  this  new  mood. 

He  longed  to  take  the  girl's  hand  and  draw  her  to  him  ; 
but  he  knew  he  must  not  do  that. 

"Please  sit  down,"  he  said.  "You  needn't  go  yet.  I 
want  —  I  wish —  Oh,  can't  you  let  me  join  you  in  this 
change  in  your  life?" 

The  young  man  heard  himself  speak  in  some  surprise. 
Still  he  was  sure  he  was  thoroughly  in  earnest.  There 
was  something  in  the  girl's  face  and  presence  which  had  a 
strange  influence  over  him.  He  did  not  mean  to  let 
any  experience  that  she  might  know  come  between  them. 
And  yet  he  had  no  consciousness  of  being  in  any  sense 
a  hypocrite  when  he  became  as  serious  as  his  compan- 
ion. 

Temple  sat  down  again.  She  was  thinking  that  perhaps 
here  was  work  for  her  to  do.  And  she  must  not  withhold 
her  hand  from  any  labor  for  the  Lord. 

As  she  looked  at  Boynton  she  was  vaguely  struck  by  the 
curiously  facile  features  which  now  expressed  nothing  but 
a  sort  of  solemn  eagerness.  For  the  first  time  it  came  to 
her  that  her  companion,  though  he  might  be  impressible, 
was  not  profound.  She  had  never  been  accustomed  to 
analyzing  anything  or  anybody. 

But  she  must  do  what  she  could. 

"  If  you're  going  to  be  religious,"  he  said,  "  why,  then 
I'm  going  to  be  religious,  too." 

"  But  that  isn't  the  right  motive,"  she  remonstrated. 
"  That's  starting  out  wrong." 

"  No  matter,  if  I  get  into  the  right  path  finally.  Temple  " 
— the  young  man's  voice  changed  into  a  minor  key — "  you 
see,  I  can't  get  along  without  you.  I  can't,  and  it's  no  use 
trying." 


WITH    DALVECKER  165 

Without  moving  in  the  least  the  girl  yet  seemed  to  with- 
draw in  some  way. 

"  But  you've  got  to  get  along  without  me,"  she  said.  "  I 
sha'n't  come  here  again." 

She  could  hardly  believe  that  she  had  ever  cared  to 
come.  Between  the  girl  who  had  found  amusement  in 
Yale  Boynton's  society  and  her  present  self  there  was  such 
a  gulf  that  Temple  was  bewildered.  But,  then,  having  re- 
ligion made  a  great  difference,  naturally. 

She  looked  with  serious,  anxious  intentness  into  Boynton's 
eyes. 

"You  must  not  talk  like  that  to  me  any  more,"  she  said. 
"I  will  not  listen  to  you." 

Boynton  grew  pale. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  let  me  see  you  ?  Won't  you  let  me 
come  to  the  house  ?"  he  asked.  And  then,  before  she  could 
reply,  he  continued,  hurriedly,  "You  must  teach  me  how  to 
be  pious — you  can't  refuse  to  do  that.  You've  got  to  help 
me  be  good.  I  don't  see  what  your  religion's  good  for  if  it 
doesn't  tell  you  to  help  everybody.  I  say,  you  can't  refuse 
anything  like  that." 

His  face  began  to  flush  with  his  eagerness. 

Gradually,  as  Temple  continued  looking,  an  incongruous 
expression  of  amusement  came  into  her  countenance.  She 
had  just  recalled  what  Lincoln  Dalvecker  had  said.  It  was 
very  odd  that  these  young  men — her  thoughts  could  not  go 
any  further. 

She  suddenly  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  She  felt 
sure  that  she  was  wicked  to  feel  any  inclination  to  laugh. 
But  certainly  there  was  something  very  ridiculous  in  it  all. 

At  first  Boynton  thought  Temple  was  crying,  and  this  be- 
lief gave  him  a  certain  satisfaction.  But  immediately  he 
discovered  that  she  was  laughing,  and  his  vanity  directly 
assumed  that  she  was  laughing  at  him. 

He  turned  away  with  such  abruptness  that  the  boat  tipped, 
and  Temple  nearly  lost  her  balance. 

"I  didn't  know  I  was  so  amusing,"  said  Boynton,  fiercely. 


l66  AGAINST   HUMAN    NATURE 

" '  Tisn't  that !  Oh,  'tisn't  that !"  exclaimed  Temple,  now 
greatly  distressed.  "  Do  forgive  me !  Now  I'm  going. 
Good-bye." 

Boynton  seized  her  hands  and  held  them  fast. 

"  But  what's  to  become  of  me  ?"  he  reiterated.  "  Aren't 
you  going  to  help  me  ?  Don't  you  think  I  want  to  be 
saved  ?  If  you  think  it's  best  to  have  religion,  why,  I'm 
going  to  have  it,  too.  Do  let  me  come  and  talk  with  you 
about  it !" 

"  Go  to  Mr.  Mercer.  He'll  tell  you.  He  knows  so  much 
more  than  I  do.  Don't  you  see  " — smiling  somewhat  trem- 
ulously— "don't  you  see,  I've  been  religious  such  a  little  bit 
of  a  while  that  I  don't  know  much  yet.  But  I  hope  to — I 
hope  to.  It's  such  a  glorious  thing !  Oh,  you've  no  idea 
what  a  glorious  thing  it  is  to  feel  all  at  once  that  the  dear 
Lord  loves  you — ^just  you,  you  know,  as  if  there  were  no  one 
else  in  the  world.  It's  such  a  great  thing  that  you  want 
every  one  to  know  it,  too." 

Boynton  forgot  his  anger. 

"  Can't  you  try  to  help  me,  then  ?"  he  asked. 

Temple  stood  hesitatingly, 

"  I  don't  know  how.  I  long  to  help  you.  I — Mr.  Boyn- 
ton," hesitating  again — "  I'll  pray  for  you.  I  reckon  you 
don't  know  how  it  is  to  pray  when  you  really  love  God,  do 
you  ?" 

"  No,"  said  the  young  man. 

Temple  turned  and  knelt  down  by  the  stern  seat.  She 
did  not  cover  her  face,  but  turned  it  up  towards  the  sky  with 
her  eyes  closed. 

She  began  to  pray  with  that  fervid  outpouring  which  is  so 
powerful  in  its  effect  upon  a  listener. 

Boynton  stood  a  moment  gazing  steadfastly  at  the  face  of 
the  girl.  It  seemed  to  him  that  from  a  fancy  his  feeling  for 
her  had  become  a  demanding  love.  He  watched  her,  ob- 
serving the  long,  light  lashes  that  were  drooped,  the  strong, 
vivid  contour  of  her  face.  Then,  all  at  once,  he  sank  down 
on  his  knees  beside  her,  and  began  to  follow  the  words  of 


WITH    DALVECKER  167 

her  petition.  She  was  very  personal.  She  talked  of  him 
and  his  needs  to  God  as  if  she  were  talking  to  a  devoted 
and  all-powerful  friend. 

When  she  ceased  she  rose  quickly.  She  would  not  be 
detained.  She  sprang  from  the  boat  and  hurried  up  the 
hill,  brushing  the  heavy  shrubs  aside  and  almost  diving 
through  them,  her  dog  close  behind  her. 

Boynton  knew  that  he  must  not  speak  to  her  nor  follow 
her.  He  sat  in  his  boat  and  looked  after  her  as  long  as 
she  was  in  sight.  Then  he  flung  himself  forward  and 
leaned  his  elbows  on  the  side,  his  hands  thrust  into  his 
hair  as  he  gazed  down  into  the  water. 

Temple  did  not  pause  until  she  reached  her  home.  She 
found  the  door  open  and  Miss  Drowdy  sitting  by  an  enor- 
mous fire,  a  plate  on  her  lap,  a  cup  of  coffee  standing  on 
a  chair  near  her.  There  was  a  dog  stationed  on  each  side 
of  her. 

"  I  told  Sally  'twa'n't  no  use  to  set  the  table  jest  for 
me,"  remarked  Almina,  "  'n'  ther  was  no  tellin'  when  you'd 
come  back.     You  must  be  about  starved." 

"  Yas,  Miss  Temple,"  said  Sally,  who  was  just  coming  in 
with  a  plate  of  fried  chicken,  "  I  tole  Miss  Drowdy  as  how 
yo'd  be  despit  hongry.  I  tole  her  as  'ligion  was  one  of 
der  hongriest  things  on  der  face  of  der  yarth." 

The  yellow  woman  drew  up  another  chair  and  deposited 
the  plate  of  chicken  upon  that,  well  within  reach  of  Almina. 

"I'm  dretful  hungry  myself,"  Almina  said,  apologet- 
ically, "but  I  thought  'twas  the  mountain  air;  I  didn't 
think  of  its  being  religion." 

Sally  laughed  far  down  in  her  throat. 

"  I  reckon  we  kin  find  'nough  fur  yo'  t'  eat.  Now,  honey," 
to  Temple,  "what  '11  ole  Sal  git  fur  yo'  ?" 

"  Nothing." 

The  yellow  woman  gazed  solicitously  at  the  girl. 

"  Dat  ain't  no  way,"  she  remarked.  "  All  dem  times  I 
got  'ligion  I  neber  lost  one  meal." 

Temple  smiled.     She  was  leaning  far  back  in  the  chair. 


l68  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

with  her  feet  stretched  towards  the  embers  on  the  hearth. 
Her  face  was  w^orii  and  white. 

"  I  haven't  lost  a  meal,"  she  ansvvered.  "  Tve  been 
down  to  the  river,  and  Mr.  Boynton  had  brought  some 
lunch." 

Sally  grinned  broadly. 

"  I  heard  his  fiddle,"  she  said.  "You  ben  fiddlin',  INIiss 
Temple  ?" 

"  No  ;  that  is,  not  much." 

Sally  stood  contemplatively  gazing  down  at  her  mistress. 

"  I  never  could  come  to  no  onderstandin',"  she  re- 
marked, "  as  to  whether  the  Lawd  liked  fiddles  or  whether 
de  Lawd  hated  fiddles.  Somehow  dey  don't  seem  so  kind 
of  holy  as  orgins,  now,  do  dey  ?" 

"  Of  course  it  depends  upon  what  you  do  with  violins," 
replied  Temple. 

She  felt  that  she  was  not  quite  qualified  to  discuss  this 
subject.  But  at  this  moment  she  had  an  inclination  tow- 
ards rigidity  in  regard  to  everything. 

She  asked  for  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  Avhen  Sally  brought  it 
she  took  occasion  to  inform  her  mistress  that  somebody 
"  be'n  'quirin'  roun'  fur  her  not  so  very  long  after  sun-up." 

Upon  being  questioned  further,  she  reluctantly  acknowl- 
edged that  the  person  thus  inquiring  was  young  Dalvecker. 

Temple's  face  clouded.  With  every  moment  that  had 
passed  since  her  interview  with  him  she  had  grown  more 
and  more  troubled  regarding  her  answer  to  him. 

She  now  rose.  She  stood  looking  irresolutely  at  Miss 
Drowdy,  who  was  still  pecking  away  at  the  leg  of  a  chick- 
en. In  response  to  this  look  Almina  explained  that  she 
didn't  know  as  a  woman  could  be  so  hungry  as  she  had 
been.  She  further  added  that  it  didn't  seem  good  man- 
ners, somehow,  to  eat  almost  a  whole  chicken,  besides  the 
amount  of  corn  pone  which  Sally  had  brought  in. 

"  I  feel  like  a  cannibal,"  she  said,  ''  and  the  worst  of  it 
is,  I  ain't  truly  ashamed." 

Temple's  gaze  was  rather  absent.      She  walked  to  the 


WITH    DALVECKER  169 

door,  and  then  paused.  She  was  not  in  the  habit  of  telling 
where  she  was  going,  but  now,  in  deference  to  her  guest, 
she  remarked  that  she  reckoned  she  should  ride  out  Cain 
Creek  way. 

When  she  had  gone.  Miss  Drowdy  asked, 

"Where  is  Cain  Creek  way.?"  and  then  was  immediately 
sorry  she  had  put  such  a  question. 

Sally  was  brushing  the  hearth.  She  answered  that  Cain 
Creek  "war  dat  kind  of  ur  stream  as  run  so  fur  one  way 
an'  so  fur  de  oder  way  dat  a  pusson  couldn't  tell  whar 
another  pusson  bad  gone  onless  dey  knew  sumpin'  more  to 
de  pint  than  jes'  Cain  Creek." 

Having  replied  thus,  the  yellow  woman  walked  out  of  the 
house  with  a  waiter  of  dishes  on  her  head.  She  turned 
thus  poised,  and  saw  Temple  leading  the  white  pony  from 
his  shed.  The  pony  had  on  saddle  and  bridle.  His  in- 
jury had  not  been  severe  and  was  now  practically  well, 
and  his  enforced  idleness  made  him  spring  away  furiously 
when  Temple  had  seated  herself  on  his  back.  He  tore 
down  the  path,  snorting  as  he  went.  His  rider  sat  calmly. 
Thimble  had  rushed  along  in  this  way  too  many  times  for 
her  to  be  discomposed.  Her  spirits  rose  as  she  went. 
The  little  white  sprite  leaped  the  trees  that  had  been  felled 
across  paths  to  stop  travel ;  he  galloped  gallantly  along 
clear  spaces ;  he  tossed  up  his  neck  with  its  thick  hogged 
mane ;  he  neighed  shrilly  as  if  in  response  to  some  unheard 
greeting.  All  the  time  the  girl  sat  him  with  seeming  neg- 
ligence, swaying  as  he  swayed. 

Even  at  this  pace  it  was  more  than  an  hour  before 
Temple  drew  in  her  pony  and  looked  down  into  a  valley 
where  a  river  thundered  along  a  steep  bed,  going  through 
fields  bright  with  growing  grain.  In  one  of  these  fields 
stood  a  two-story  white  house,  a  house  without  blinds  and 
with  narrow  windows,  but  with  a  long  stoop  extending 
across  the  front.  There  were  some  cows  on  a  slope  tow- 
ards the  north.  On  a  few  rods  of  flat  ground  a  pair  of 
horses  were  slowly  dragging  a  plough,  which  was  held  by  a 


I70  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

man  in  a  red  shirt.  His  brown  trousers  were  tucked  into 
tall  boots  heavy  with  the  damp,  dark  soil. 

In  another  place  a  woman  was  dropping  corn  and  a  man 
was  covering  it. 

The  mountains  stood  all  about  as  background.  The  sky 
was  a  pale,  warm  blue,  and  crows  sailed  deliberately  across 
it,  cawing  hoarsely.  But  through  their  cries  could  be 
heard  the  gay,  challenging  notes  of  newly  mated  song 
birds. 

The  pony  stood  perfectly  still,  its  wise  face  also  turned 
towards  the  picture  below  him,  as  if  he  also  were  surveying 
it  with  appreciation. 

The  girl  sat  quietly  in  the  saddle.  Her  heart  was  filled 
with  the  beauty  of  the  world.  Her  eyes  looked  tense  and 
strained.  Her  lips  were  parted.  For  a  moment  she  forgot 
why  she  had  come  to  Cain  Creek. 

Suddenly  a  child's  voice  shouted  shrilly  dow^n  in  the 
valley, 

"  Somebody's  come  on  ter  thur  land  !" 

Then  dogs  barked,  and  came  racing  wildly  towards  the 
intruder. 

The  woman  dropping  corn  stopped,  and  pushed  back  her 
sun-bonnet.     The  man  leaned  on  his  hoe  and  gazed. 

The  man  who  had  been  holding  the  plough  glanced  once  ; 
then  he  left  his  horses  standing  in  the  furrows,  swung  off 
his  hat,  and  ran  swdftly  up  to  the  horsewoman.  As  he  ran 
he  was  aware  of  the  picture  made  by  the  wdiite  pony  and 
his  rider — aware  of  it  with  a  leaping  of  pulses  and  a  wild 
joy  that  seemed  too  great,  for  an  instant,  to  be  borne. 

His  long  legs  quickly  left  the  space  behind  him.  He 
leaned  up  against  Thimble,  and  grasped  Temple's  ungloved 
brown  hand. 

"  This  is  jest  mighty  good  of  you,  Temple  !"  he  exclaimed. 
"  It  was  jest  like — like — oh,  the  brightest  sunlight  in  the 
world  when  I  saw  you  up  here.  I  was  thinking  about  you — 
I'm  always  doin'  that.  But  I  was  planning  how  to  make 
the  house  more  convenient  'fore  you  come.     They've  got  a 


WITH    DALVECKER  171 

house  to  the  Junction — John  Case's  new  one,  you  know  ;  it 
makes  work  easier  for  the  women.  An'  you're  goin'  to  have 
jest  as  easy  a  time  as  can  be  wlien  you're  here,  you  know, 
Temple." 

Link  Dalvecker's  words  almost  tumbled  over  each  other 
in  his  happy  eagerness.  When  he  stopped.  Temple  only 
said  '•  Don't "  in  a  beseeching  tone. 

Then  there  was  silence  between  them  for  a  little  time. 

But  Dalvecker  could  not  be  thus  rebuffed.  He  had  taken 
such  heart  of  grace  in  thinking  over  his  last  interview  with 
this  girl,  and  his  mother  had  been  so  positive  that  he  was 
accepted,  that  he  also  had  become  positive. 

His  mother,  in  the  fulness  of  her  knowledge  of  girls,  had 
also  counselled  him  not  to  mind  any  "gal's  notions."  She 
assured  him  that  the  notions  in  "gal's  heads  was  beyont 
anything  on  the  whole  yarth."  He  was  to  pay  absolutely 
no  attention  to  them.  A  gal  said  anything  and  everything, 
especially  a  gal  like  Temple  Crawford,  who  hadTDcen  a  wild 
colt  all  her  life. 

Nevertheless,  Link  wished  now  that  Temple  had  not  said 
"  Don't "  in  that  way,  though,  of  course,  it  did  not  mean 
anything  —  it  could  not  mean  anything.  She  was  just  a 
"gal,"  that  was  all. 

He  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief  as  he  reached  this  con- 
clusion. 

He  still  leaned  against  the  pony's  side,  and  he  still  held 
Temple's  hand  as  he  kept  his  eyes  on  her  face. 

He  was  wondering  how  he  had  lived  all  these  years 
within  a  few  miles  of  this  girl  without  making  himself  sure 
that  she  would  eventually  belong  to  him.  Certainly  she 
would  belong  to  him.  As  if  the  repetition  of  this  phrase  in 
his  mind  carried  with  it  a  doubt,  the  young  man's  face 
flushed  a  deep  red,  even  under  the  tan.  His  eyes  flashed. 
The  hand  hanging  by  his  side  shut  tightly.  His  temper 
was  not  one  which  could  bear  much  opposition. 

But  Temple  was  not  noticing  him.  Her  gaze  was  going, 
with  slow  dwelling  here  and  thefe,  over  the  scene  before 


172  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

her.  For  the  moment  she  had  forgotten  her  newly  acquired 
rehgion. 

"  I'm  wonderin'  what  you're  thinking,"  at  last  said  Link, 
trying  to  be  patient.  He  was  longing  for  her  to  look  at  him, 
to  give  him  a  personal  glance.  What  eyes,  he  thought,  she 
had !  His  very  heart  had  gone  into  their  depths.  Did  any 
other  woman  ever  have  such  eyes,  or  any  other  man  love 
them  so  ? 

Temple  moved  a  little  in  the  saddle.  She  became  con- 
scious that  her  hand  was  closely  held,  and  she  with- 
drew it. 

Dalvecker  sighed  audibly ;  then  he  repeated  his  remark, 
and  she  made  an  effort  to  reply. 

"  The  mountains,"  she  said,  "  and  the  sky — the  whole 
world — " 

Then  she  remembered  that  she  had  religion.  She  also 
sighed.     She  looked  down  at  her  companion. 

"  I  don't  see  how  heaven  can  be  as  beautiful  as  the  Car- 
olina mountains,  do  you,  Link .'"' 

But  the  young  man  found  it  an  effort  to  try  to  think 
enough  to  answer.     He  only  said,  impetuously, 

"  I  don't  want  no  heaven  better'n  this — jest  to  be  nigh 
you,  Temple." 

And  again  the  girl  said  "  Don't !"  and  this  time  more 
pleadingly  than  before. 

The  adoring  passion  in  Dalvecker's  eyes  became  clouded. 
He  felt  that  he  could  bear  a  great  deal  of  everything  that 
did  not  come  between  him  and  Temple,  but  that  he  could 
bear  absolutely  nothing  that  did. 

"  I'm  dead  sure,"  he  began  now,  *'  that  I  don't  know  what 
you're  aimin'  at.  You  come  down  to  thur  house.  Mar's 
got  sumpin'  she  wants  to  show  you.  Mar's  awful  pleased 
to  think  that  you — that  I — that  we — " 

The  young  man  paused  in  his  stammering,  his  face  burn- 
ing, his  eyes  glowing.  He  was  going  to  put  his  arm  about 
Temple  as  she  sat  there,  but  she  tried  to  shrink  away.  He 
frowned,  and  his  arm  dropped  to  his  side. 


WITH    DALVECKER  173 

Temple,  to  her  great  surprise,  was  finding  it  more  and 
more  difficult  to  say  what  she  had  come  to  say. 

When  she  had  started  she*  had  thought  that  it  would  not 
be  very  hard  to  tell  Link  that  they  would  not  think  any  more 
of  what  was  said  right  after  the  preaching. 

She  was  positive  that  nothing  had  been  settled  then.  But 
evidently  Link  and  his  mother  believed  that  everything  was 
settled  as  they  wished-  The  girl  was  growing  bewildered 
and  rebellious. 

"  Come,"  he  repeated,  "  mar's  got  some  quilt  or  sumpin' 
she  wants  to  show  you.  An'  I  want  you  to  tell  me  whar  to 
put  thur  pump.  I've  done  made  up  my  mind  I'll  have  a 
pump.     You  ain't  goin'  to  draw  water." 

His  voice  sank  to  a  tender  tone,  and  he  leaned  more 
closely  upon  Thimble,  who  maintained  his  position,  ears 
cocked,  and  long  face  seriously  turned  towards  the  valley. 

"  It  isn't  any  matter  about  the  pump  !"  exclaimed  Temple, 
almost  with  a  savage  intonation. 

"But  I  ain't  going  to  have  you  drawing  water  like  the 
women  round  hyar,"  reasserted  Link,  "  an'  you  sha'n't  follow 
thur  plough.  Thur  Dalvecker  women  ain't  no  call  to  follow 
thur  plough,"  with  some  pride. 

Temple  sat  up  straight.  She  gripped  the  bridle.  Instead 
of  looking  at  her  companion,  she  gazed  in  a  cowardly  manner 
down  at  her  bridle  hand  as  she  began  to  speak. 

"  What  do  you  think  I  came  over  to  Cain  Creek  for  ?" 

"  Oh,  Temple,  I  hoped  'twas  to  see  me." 

"  Yes,  it  was." 

Now  the  girl  lifted  brave  eyes  and  met  the  intent,  mascu- 
line gaze,  which  did  not  swerve  from  her  face. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  it  was  to  see  you,  and  tell  you  that  'twas 
all  wrong — our  thinking  of  marrying,  you  know.  I  can't  do 
hit — oh  no,  I  can't  do  hit  1" 

Dalvecker's  face  darkened.  His  mouth  shut  closely,  but 
he  stood  quiet. 

"  I  didn't  say  I  would,"  went  on  Temple,  her  low  voice 
seeming  to  her  listener  like  a  sharp  knife.     "  You  must  know 


174  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

I  didn't  say  I  would,  and  somehow  you've  understood  I  did 
say  so.  They  told  me  I  ought  not  to  say  I'd  think  of  hit — 
that  men  always  thought  it  was  the  same  as  saying  yes.  I 
don't  see  why  men  should  think  so,  though.  But  I  can't 
think  of  hit.  I've  come  to  tell  you  so,  Link.  Oh,  dear. 
Link,  don't  look  like  that!     Please  don't!" 

To  the  pony's  great  surprise  Temple  suddenly  flung  one 
arm  about  Link's  neck,  while  she  bent  her  head  down  on 
the  top  of  the  young  man's  felt-hat.  Her  own  felt-hat  fell 
off  at  the  same  moment,  revealing  her  short,  tumbled,  light 
hair,  w^hich  looked  almost  ashen  in  this  strong  sunlight. 

Dalvecker's  mother,  who  had  resumed  the  dropping  of 
corn  in  the  lot  down  in  the  valley,  glanced  up  as  Temple's 
head  dropped  down  on  that  of  her  son.  She  smiled  in  the 
cavernous  depths  of  her  cape-bonnet,  and  then  she  remarked 
to  the  man  who  was  following  with  his  hoe, 

"That  thur  gal's  what  I  call  in  lurv;  an'  no  wonder. 
She's  gurt  er  good  man.  My  son  ain't,  one  of  thur  dad- 
burned  kind  as  '11  be  rough  on  a  'oman.  She's  rid  all  thur 
way  from  Fairview  hyar  jest  to  see  Link.  She's  in  lurv, 
she  is." 

It  will  be  observed  that  Mrs.  Dalvecker,  widow,  unlike 
her  son,  had  never  been  to  school  in  Asheville. 

She  laughed  as  she  ceased  speaking.  The  man  with  the 
hoe  had  looked  up  at  her  first  words.  He  also  laughed. 
And  he  remarked  that  Link  "allers  did  hev  thur  luck." 

To  this  Mrs.  Dalvecker  responded  that  she  hadn't 
nawthin'  against  Temple ;  but  she  reckoned  as  'twar  Tem- 
ple as  was  in  luck.  Jest  to  think  of  thur  plank  house!  An' 
Link  war  layin'  out  fur  er  pump  !" 

The  thought  of  the  pump  seemed  tOk incapacitate  Mrs.  Dal- 
vecker from  further  speech. 

Up  on  the  height  young  Dalvecker  was  not  thinking  that 
he  was  in  luck. 

He  stood  quite  motionless,  with  Temple's  arm  about  his 
neck.  It  seemed  a  long  time  before  he  could  speak.  Fi- 
nally he  said,  in  a  whisper, 


WITH    DALVECKER  175 

"  Don't  be  so  sure  3'ou  can't  lurv  me,  Temple.  I'd  try  to 
git  along  with  jest  a  little  lurv  at  first." 

"'Tisnt  that." 

Temple  raised  her  head,  and  took  her  arm  from  the  man's 
neck. 

"  It  isn't  any  question  of  love,  anyway.  I  told  you  I 
didn't  love  you.  I  only  had  an  affection  for  you,  you  know. 
But  I  didn't  know  but  I  might  do  more  good  by  marrying 
you.  You  said  how  I  could  help  you — keep  you  religious, 
and—" 

Dalvecker's  face  had  been  growing  blacker  and  blacker. 
Now  he  burst  out, 

"  It's  that  damned  young  fool  from  Asheville  !"  he  cried. 
"  The  feller  with  thur  fiddle  !  You  lurv  him.  Temple  Craw- 
ford !  Jim  Frady  said  as  how  you  met  urp  with  him,  an' 
went  in  his  boat,  an'  fiddled,  an'  sung,  an' — an' —  It's  him! 
He  sha'n't  fiddle  no  more  !  I'll  kill  him  's  I  would  er  mad 
fyst !" 

The  girl  did  not  try  to  reply  at  first  to  this  outbreak.  She 
gazed  down  at  Link.     At  last  she  said,  solemnly, 

"  I  don't  lurv  him.  Link  !" 

Dalvecker  believed  her  instantly.  His  face  began  to  be 
less  distorted. 

"But  it  doesn't  make  any  difference,"  said  Temple — 
"  about  us,  I  mean." 

"Why  not?     It's  gurt  to  make  a  difference." 

"No;  I've  made  up  my  mind." 

"  Who  is  it,  then  ?"  fiercely. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  Link." 

"What  man  is  it  that  you  do  lurv  ?" 

The  barbarian  beneath  Dalvecker's  skin  began  again  to 
come  to  the  surface. 

"  Nobody." 

"  Then  I'm  going  to  hope." 

"  No,  no  ;  I  wish  you'd  listen  to  me  now.  Link." 

The  man  stood  still  and  waited. 

Things  were  growing  clearer  to  the  girl,  as  things  will 


176  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

suddenly  grow  clearer  sometimes  in  the  fire  of  unusual  ex- 
citement. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  what  my  plan  of  life  is." 

It  was  in  this  moment  that  Temple's  plan  of  life  became 
defined. 

"Tell  me.     I'll  try  to  bear  it." 

Dalvecker  did  hope.  He  could  not  help  hoping  since 
that  assurance  that  Temple  did  not  love  the  fiddler.  There 
was  positively  nobody  else.  And  this  talk  about  not  loving 
any  one  was  unnatural,  and  he  did  not  believe  it.  Women 
talked  so  strangely  sometimes.  But  they  didn't  mean 
much. 

Temple  was  thinking  of  a  power  she  had  felt  recently 
developed  in  her.  She  called  it  a  religious  power.  When 
she  prayed  there  was  in  her  consciousness  a  fervid  force 
which  she  knew  moved  others  as  well  as  herself.  She 
must  use  this  gift  for  the  Lord,  who  had  bestowed  it  upon 
her. 

Yes,  everything  was  clear  to  her  now.  It  was  God  him- 
self who  had  given  her  something  by  which  she  could  bring 
people  into  the  fold.  It  was  God  himself  who  was  opening 
the  way  of  great  usefulness  in  letting  her  have  the  oppor- 
tunity to  be  a  helpmeet  to  a  man  like  the  preacher. 

Couldn't  she  make  Link  Dalvecker  see  this?  She  saw  it 
so  strongly.  She  had  not  yet  learned  that  another  person 
cannot  occupy  our  point  of  view,  no  matter  how  strenuously 
we  try  to  put  him  there.  • 

The  girl's  gaze  went  off  to  the  mountains  again.  How 
grand,  how  glorious  life  was  !  How  favored  she  was  in  be- 
ins:  allowed  to  serve  the  Master !  She  had  all  her  life  felt 
such  longings  for  she  knew  not  what — of  great  work.  And 
now  this  work  had  come  to  her  hand.  All  her  life  she  had 
wanted  to  fling  herself  unreservedly  into  something  that 
should  take  her  and  hold  her.  All  her  life — and  her  life 
seemed  long  to  her.  She  had  a  sense  that  she  was  very 
much  older  than  this  young  man  who  could  not  seem  to  take 
his  eyes  from  her  face. 


WITH    DALVECKER 


177 


"  I'm  waiting  for  you  to  tell  me,"  Dalvecker  said,  at 
length. 

He  distrusted  every  moment  of  silence  during  which  she 
looked  like  that. 

Temple  glanced  at  her  companion,  but  for  some  reason 
she  could  not  continue  to  look  at  him  as  she  said, 

"  I've  been  trying  to  see  my  way  clear,  and  now  I  do  see 
it.  I  shall  marry  Mr.  Mercer,  and  work  with  him.  You  see 
how — but.  Link — " 

She  stopped  suddenly.  She  had  been  going  to  explain 
her  plans,  but  the  words  all  at  once  seemed  useless,  without 
meaning.  She  had  not  known  that  any  one  could  show  such 
agony  as  she  saw  in  Link's  face. 

And,  strangest  of  all,  he  did  not  seem  to  understand. 
And  it  came  upon  her  with  owerwhelming  force  that  she 
could  never  make  him  understand. 

Link  was  standing  up  straight,  his  head  flung  back,  his  hot 
eyes  fixed  on  Temple's  eyes. 

When  she  stopped  speaking  he  did  not  break  the  silence. 
It  was  she  who  spoke  again. 

"  Dear  Link,"  she  said,  "  it's  all  so  plain  to  me." 

"Do  yo'  lurv  him?"  he  asked,  as  he  had  just  asked  about 
"the  fiddler." 

There  was  surprise  and  impatience  in  her  voice  as  she 
said, 

"  It's  so  odd  that  everybody  asks  that.  No,  I  don't  love 
him.  Why  should  I  ?  I  can  respect  and  admire  him.  If 
I  did  fancy  I  was  in  love  I  should  just  have  to  get  over  that, 
and  then  what  better  off  should  I  he}  Besides,  I'm  not  the 
kind  of  girl  to  be  in  love." 

Dalvecker  made  a  quick  movement  as  if  he  could  bear  no 
more.     He  raised  his  clinched  hand  into  the  air,  crying  out, 

"  No,  I  reckon  you  ain't  thur  kind  of  gal !  If  you  was 
you'd  stop  tormentin'  me  so !  You  just  put  me  into  hell 
with  your  ca'm  kind  of  talk  !" 

Temple's  face  quivered  with  wistful  wonder. 

"I  reckon  you  think  you're  in  lurv,"  she  said. 


12 


178  AGAINST   HUMAN   NATURE 

"  I  know  I  am,"  with  ill-suppressed  fury. 

"Then  it  must  be  awful — awful,"  she  responded,  impres- 
sively. "I'm  glad  Tm  not  that  sort  of  person.  There's  suf- 
fering enough  in  this  world  without  love — I  mean  that  kind 
of  love." 

She  gathered  up  the  bridle  which  she  had  let  fall  on  the 
pony's  neck.  But  she  continued  to  look  at  Dalvecker.  She 
was  inclined  to  be  indignant  with  him.  Of  course,  he  could 
not  really  feel  as  he  seemed  to  feel.  She  could  not  quite 
believe  in  the  reality  of  his  emotion.  So  true  it  is  that  what 
we  have  never  felt  we  cannot  understand. 

"  I'll  be  going  now,"  she  said. 

"No!     No!" 

The  young  man  seized  the  bridle  so  forcibly  that  the 
pony  turned  and  nipped  at  his  wrist,  leaving  a  purple  mark. 

"  You  can't  mean  hit !     You  can't  mean  hit !" 

Dalvecker  choked  on  the  w^ords.  And  yet  it  seemed  to 
him  that  he  was  giving  his  whole  strength  to  the  effort  to 
control  himself.  Because  he  did  not  burst  forth  into  wild 
oaths,  because  he  did  not  tear  Temple  from  the  saddle,  take 
her  to  the  house  yonder  and  shut  her  up  there,  he  was  un- 
der the  belief  that  he  was  controlling  himself. 

"We  won't  talk  any  more.  I'm  going,"  she  said,  "  and  I 
mean  it;  I  mean  it  all.  But  I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I 
am.     Can't  we  be  just  the  same  friends.  Link  .''" 

But  Dalvecker  could  not  answer.  He  nodded  vaguely. 
It  was  as  if  he  were  in  the  grasp  of  some  malignant  mon- 
ster that  was  shaking  him  up  and  down,  and  he  was  dan- 
gling helpless  in  that  grasp. 

He  saw  Temple  ride  away.  His  eyes  seemed  to  have 
flames  in  them. 

He  could  not  remember  the  time  when  he  had  not  meant 
to  have  that  girl  for  his  wife.  And  he  had  always  had  what 
he  meant  to  have. 

At  the  topmost  part  of  the  path  along  which  Temple  had 
come  she  stopped  her  pony  and  turned  about.  The  young 
man  saw  her  wave  her  hand  at  him.     He  heard  her  cry, 


WITH    DALVECKER 


179 


"  Good-bye,  Link  !  Good-bye  !  I  want  you  to  come  and 
see  me !" 

Link  took  off  his  hat  and  waved  it.  His  hand  appeared 
to  perform  the  act  without  any  command  from  his  mind. 

When  the  girl  was  out  of  sight  Dalvecker  had  sense 
enough  to  know  that  he  must  go  back  to  his  ploughing,  or 
his  mother  would  come  and  question  him. 

He  turned  himself  towards  his  home.  It  was  only  a  few 
moments  before  that  he  had  been  planning  how  to  make 
the  work  easier  for  Temple.  There  was  the  house,  with 
the  green  about  it ;  there  was  his  mother  going  right 
on  dropping  corn,  and  old  Chris  Jinks  was  covering  it. 
Dalvecker  could  hear  the  sound  of  the  hoe  as  it  slid  under 
the  earth.  Jinks's  little  boy  was  beneath  an  apple-tree  firing 
stones  at  a  robin's  nest. 

Dalvecker's  outward  sense  told  him  that  the  farm  had 
never  looked  so  well.     And  he  resented  that  fact. 

He  wanted  to  grip  hold  of  something.  There  was  noth- 
ing to  grip,  however.     He  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets. 

"  It's  just — oh — "  He  paused,  for  there  was  no  word 
strong  enough.     "  Oh,  it's  just  hell !"  he  whispered. 

Then  he  walked  down  to  where  his  horses  were  calmly 
standing  in  the  freshly  turned  earth. 


XI 


THE   mother's    letter 


Mrs.  Dalvecker  saw  her  son  return  to  his  plough  after 
his  interview  with  his  sweetheart. 

She  set  down  the  basket  which  held  the  seed-corn,  and 
went  striding  over  the  furrows  to  him.  She  wanted  to  tell 
him  again  what  a  lucky  gal  Temple  Crawford  was. 

She  waited  until  his  horses  came  back  along  the  line  of 
their  work. 

Link  was  tempted  to  turn  and  run  away ;  but  he  came  on, 
ramming  the  plough  furiously  down  into  the  earth  that 
rolled  richly  away  from  the  share.  A  flock  of  hens  was  in- 
dustriously pecking  along  behind  him. 

"Jest  stop,  will  yo'  ?"  commanded  the  woman. 

The  young  man  stopped.  He  pulled  the  great  flap  of 
his  hat  far  over  his  face  and  waited. 

"  Did  yo'  tell  her  'bout  thur  pump  ?"  asked  the  mother. 

Link  nodded. 

"  Thur  ain't  no  pump  on  none  of  thur  mountings." 

Having  said  this  with  an  air  of  pride,  Mrs.  Dalveck- 
er spat  emphatically,  and  then  drew  her  hand  down  over 
her  mouth  to  remove  any  too  visible  traces  of  expectora- 
tion. 

"  I  reckon  that  Crawford  gal  ain't  none  too  good  to  draw 
water  same's  her  man's  dad  an'  mam  hev  drawed." 

These  words  were  tempered  with  a  good-natured  laugh. 

"  She  ain't  gwine  ter  draw  water  hyar,"  was  the  response. 

Mrs.  Dalvecker  pushed  her  sun-bonnet  back  quickly. 

"  Hev  you-uns  an'  her  ben  quarrillin' .?"  she  asked,  sharp- 
ly.    "She  mought  better  luke  out.     Thur  ain't  no  sech 


THE    mother's    letter  i8i 

chance  's  Link  Dalvecker  nowhars  in  Limestone  Township. 
She  better  luke  out  fer  herself." 

There  was  no  response  to  this.  Link  stood  sullenly  gaz- 
ing at  his  mother. 

"  I  hope  you-uns  didn't  give  in  to  her  in  no  ways,"  said 
Mrs.  Dalvecker.  "  Yo'  mus'  jest  take  yer  stand  an'  be  boss 
from  thur  fust." 

Link  turned  away.  He  grasped  the  plough-handles  so 
that  his  finger-nails  showed  white  with  the  strain. 

"  Mar,"  he  said,  "  yo'  shurt  urp.  I'm  gwine  ter  boss  my 
own  business.  Mebby  me  an'  Temple  sha'n't  hitch  no 
ways." 

"  Wha-at !" 

Link  felt  beside  himself. 

"  Mar,"  he  said  again,  "  will  yo'  shurt  urp  ?" 

He  hurriedly  unhooked  the  horses  and  sent  them  off, 
with  the  chains  dangling  against  their  legs.  He  walked 
after  them.  He  would  have  liked  to  put  a  thousand  miles 
between  him  and  every  human  being  who  had  a  right  to 
speak  to  him.  He  had  a  dreadful  feeling  like  hatred  tow- 
ards Temple.     "  To  be  friends  with  her  !"  she  had  said. 

Mrs.  Dalvecker  stood  in  the  ploughed  field  with  her  sun- 
bonnet  tipped  back,  watching  her  boy. 

As  she  watched  she  mechanically  pulled  from  somewhere 
in  her  dress  a  small  paper  bag  of  snuff,  poured  a  little  pile 
into  the  dingy  palm  of  her  hand,  and  then  tossed  the  pile 
into  her  mouth.  She  tossed  so  dexterously  that  she  did  not 
lose  a  grain,  but  it  was  all  done  mechanically.  She  wanted 
consolation,  and  she  applied  to  her  snuff-bag  without  know- 
ing that  she  did  so. 

She  did  not  stand  long.  She  turned  in  the  direction  of 
the  large  barn  which  was  at  the  top  of  the  field.  She  walked 
towards  it  with  those  long  steps  that  so  often  characterized 
the  walk  of  the  mountain  women. 

"  What's  urp  ?"  asked  Chris  Jinks,  glad  of  an  opportunity 
to  rest  on  his  hoe-handle. 

"  Nawthin',"  was  the  answer.     "  Yo'  go  on  er  plantin'." 


l82  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Jinks  continued  to  rest  his  long  length  on  his  tool  while 
he  watched  Mrs.  Dalvecker,  who  disappeared  in  the  dark 
cavern  of  the  barn.  She  very  soon  reappeared,  now  mount- 
ed on  a  tall  roan  horse.  She  cantered  off  over  the  field, 
and  was  soon  out  of  sight  in  the  way  taken  by  Temple. 

"She  lied,"  said  Jinks  to  himself,  taking  off  his  hat  and 
passing  his  hand  over  his  head.  "  Sumpin'  is  urp.  Him 
an'  her  has  fought.  Durned  ef  I  wanter  hev  Link  Dalvecker 
turned  against  me.  He's  all  right  ef  he  has  what  he  wants. 
But  ef  he  don't  hev  hit—" 

Jinks  passed  his  hand  over  his  head  again  and  neglected 
to  finish  his  sentence. 

The  long  legs  of  the  roan  took  him  swiftly  over  the  rough 
way.  Mrs.  Dalvecker  was  sitting  on  a  man's  saddle,  but 
she  maintained  her  position  with  a  negligent  security  that 
was  an  accomplishment  possessed  by  nearly  every  woman 
hereabouts.  Her  little  wad  of  snuff  w^as  safely  lodged 
beneath  her  lower-lip  ;  her  bonnet  was  pushed  back  so  that 
the  upper  part  of  her  yellow  forehead  and  the  front  of  her 
grizzled  hair  were  visible,  but  the  pasteboard  projected  so 
that  her  mouth  and  chin  were  concealed. 

This  horsewoman  paused  and  deliberated  a  moment 
when  she  had  reached  the  place  where  Temple  had  ap- 
peared less  than  an  hour  ago. 

Then  Mrs.  Dalvecker  turned  right  into  the  woods.  She 
calmly  put  her  steed  over  fallen  trees  and  zigzag  fences, 
and  the  gaunt  animal  never  flinched.  He  set  his  bony 
face  forward  in  a  brave  way  that  was  habitual  with  him. 

In  half  an  hour  the  rider  came  out  on  a  path  that 
wound  upward  towards  the  west.  She  stopped  her  horse 
and  looked  down  the  path. 

"  She  mought  hev  gone,"  she  said  aloud,  "  but  I  reckon 
she  hain't." 

She  was  right  in  her  reckoning,  for  it  was  hardly  a  mo- 
ment before  a  white  pony,  with  a  girl  on  his  back,  came  in 
sight  still  farther  down  the  mountain. 

Temple   was   riding  slowly.  Thimble  going  at  his  little 


1 


THE    MOTHER  S  LETTER  183 

amble.  The  girl  had  her  hat  in  her  hand,  and  sunlight 
and  shadow  were  continually  flecking  her  face  and  figure 
as  she  came  forward. 

Mrs.  Dalvecker  cantered  towards  her,  and  stopped  in 
front  of  her. 

"  Howdy,"  she  said,  with  some  sharpness. 

Thimble  stopped  of  his  own  accord,  knowing  his  man- 
ners, and  his  mistress  responded, 

"  Howdy,"  in  some  surprise. 

"  I  curm  fur  yo',"  remarked  the  woman,  peremptorily. 

"What?" 

"  I  curm  fur  yo' — I  'low  you'll  go  back  right  now  along 
of  me." 

Temple  was  silent,  gazing  at  Link's  mother,  who  had  hith- 
erto been  all  smiles  to  her. 

"  No,"  said  the  girl,  "  Tm  not  going  back." 

There  was  a  heat  in  her  face  and  in  her  eyes,  but  she 
spoke  quite  calmly.  She  was  asking  herself  if  it  were 
possible  that  Link  had  been  complaining  to  his  mother. 

"  You  be,"  was  the  response.  "  Thur's  Link — he's  er 
ravin'  urp  an'  down  thur  crick.  He's  bound  ter  do  his'ef 
er  damage.  An'  I'm  bound  ter  stop  hit.  Hyar's  you  cur- 
min'  down  ter  see  him ;  some  gals  don't  be  a  cavortin' 
round  arter  their  fellers  in  this  style.  Some  gals  waits  to 
home  fur  thur  men  to  curm  to  see  'um.  But  you  jest  run 
arter  my  boy,  an'  then  you'll  quarril  with  him,  an'  he's  that 
mad  I  shouldn't  wonder  ef  he'd  shot  his'ef  'fore  this.  You 
curm  long  er  me  now,  right  smart.  I  ain't  feared  of  no  up- 
start gals  as  runs  arter  their  men.  An'  he  layin'  out  ter 
put  in  er  pump  !" 

It  was  as  if  the  memory  of  the  pump  was  too  much  for 
Mrs,  Dalvecker.  She  bent  forward,  and  put  a  yellow,  skin- 
ny hand  on  Temple's  arm,  grasping  it  tightly. 

The  girl's  eyes  dilated,  and  a  flush  deepened  on  her  face 
and  neck.     After  a  moment  she  said, 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  touch  me.  I  don't  like  to  be 
touched." 


l84  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

She  glanced  down  and  saw  the  nails,  with  their  black 
rims,  on  her  companion's  hands.  She  shuddered.  She 
was  trying  to  remember  that  she  had  religion.  Surely  this 
was  a  time  when  she  ought  to  make  use  of  such  a  possession. 

"  Don't  like  ter  be  touched !"  repeated  Mrs.  Dalvecker. 
"  I  don't  know's  I  care.  What  you  ben  doin'  to  my  son — 
my  son,  who's  better  'n  you-uns  any  day.?  An'  he  layin'  out 
fur  er  pump  !  I  say,  you  mought  drar  water  !  An'  yo'  run- 
nin'  arter  him  !" 

Mrs.  Dalvecker  was  gradually  raising  her  voice.  A  nar- 
row yellow  stream  was  starting  from  each  corner  of  her 
mouth  and  trickling  down. 

"You  mus'n't  touch  me,"  said  Temple  again.  She  was 
aware  that  a  shudder  ran  over  her  at  the  contact  of  that 
hand. 

Then  all  at  once  a  flood  of  pity  and  longing  came  into 
her  soul.  What  did  all  this  matter  ?  What  did  anything 
in  the  world  matter  when  we  thought  of  the  Lord  who  had 
loved  us  and  died  for  us .? 

He  had  suffered  everything,  borne  everything  for  our 
sakes.  And  should  not  she.  Temple  Crawford,  gladly  bear 
such  discomfort  as  this  ? 

Mrs.  Dalvecker  was  looking  in  the  girl's  face,  and  she 
saw  the  sudden  and,  to  her,  mysterious  change  that  came 
to  it. 

In  her  surprise  she  released  the  arm,  staring  as  she 
did  so. 

It  was  Temple  who  now  bent  forward  and  touched  the 
woman's  shoulder,  her  fresh  young  eyes  seeking  the  faded 
and  sunken  ones,  with  a  look  in  them  that  stirred  and 
strangely  moved  Mrs.  Dalvecker. 

She  had  been  like  an  animal  rushing  out  to  protect  its 
young.  Link  was  suffering.  This  girl  had  made  him  suf- 
fer. Therefore,  she  sought  this  girl  that  she  might  make 
her  suffer  also,  if  she  would  not  restore  happiness  to  Link. 

But  now,  as  the  eyes  of  the  two  met,  Mrs.  Dalvecker's 
indignation  began  to  subside,  she  could  not  tell  why. 


THE    mother's    letter  185 

Temple,  in  her  simplicity,  went  straight  to  the  thing  up- 
permost in  her  thoughts. 

"  You  see,"  she  said,  "  I  found  the  Lord  at  the  preaching 
the  other  night." 

"  Did  yo'  ?" 

Mrs.  Dalvecker  asked  the  question  gently.  She  had 
been  to  preaching  many  times  in  her  youth,  and  once  she 
thought  she  had  "  experienced."  But  it  did  not  last.  That 
was  years  ago.  She  had  given  up  going  to  preaching.  She 
would  have  said  that  she  laid  out  to  have  religion  before 
she  died.     She  wanted  to  "  die  rejoicing." 

"  I'm  trying  to  be  good,"  said  Temple.  "  Oh,  I  am  cer- 
tainly trying !    And  to  live  near  to  good  things,  you  know." 

She  removed  her  hand  from  the  woman's  shoulder  and 
leaned  it  on  the  \vithers  of  the  tall  roan,  bending  forward 
from  her  saddle  as  she  did  so,  her  whole  force  seeming 
to  pour  forth  the  light  of  aspiration  and  intense  belief. 

"  Perhaps  you  could  help  me,"  she  said,  her  voice  thrill- 
ing along  the  nerves  of  her  listener,  and  taking  the  woman 
back  to  those  young  days  when  life  was  full  of  sensation. 

"Help  yo'?"said  Mrs.  Dalvecker.  "I  can't— I  can't. 
I  never  gurt  no  religion  as  stayed  by  me — none.  Mebbe 
thur  preachers  wa'n't  thur  right  kind.  Mebbe  my  heart 
war  like  thur  nether  millstone.    'Tis  now,  I  reckon." 

"  No  ;  oh  no  !  You  have  such  a  kind  heart,  dear  friend. 
Only  it's  the  natural  heart.  We  must  get  rid  of  that,  you 
know,  mustn't  we?  I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me 
to-night.     Will  you  ?    Will  you  .?" 

Impossible  to  describe  the  power  of  moving  and  win- 
ning that  there  was  in  Temple's  voice  and  eyes.  There 
was  an  overflow  of  sincerest  well-wishing,  a  kind  of  love 
going  out  from  her. 

"Ter-night?"  asked  the  woman.  "Thur  ain't  nawthin'  I 
kin  do  ter-night." 

"  Oh  yes,  there  is.  Will  you  remember  ?  This  evening, 
when  the  sun  gets  to  the  top  of  the  Twin  Brothers,  will  you 
pray  for  your  soul  just  as  you  did  when  you  were  young  ^ 


l86  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

And  I  shall  pray  for  you,  too,  at  that  very  time.  And  God 
will  hear  us.  I  know  He  will.  He  has  promised.  And 
He  isn't  hke  us;  He  never  forgets  a  promise." 

Mrs.  Dalvecker's  gaze  was  on  the  illuminated  face  so 
near  her.  She  hardly  recognized  herself.  She  had  been 
dull  for  so  many  years,  save  where  her  son  was  concerned. 
Now  a  chill  went  down  her  spine,  while  at  the  same  time  a 
warmth  came  to  her  heart. 

"  I  reckon  I'll  promise,"  she  said,  no  longer  using  her 
loud,  strident  tones. 

"  I  knew  you  would,"  said  Temple,  ardently,  *'  I  knew 
you  would.  We  shall  have  a  blessing  —  we  surely  shall. 
Good-bve." 

Temple  sat  up  straight.  The  pony  started  forward,  and 
had  gone  a  few  rods  when  the  woman  roused  herself  and 
called  after  the  girl. 

*'  Thur's  Link,  yo'  know !"  she  shouted. 

Temple  turned. 

"  He'll  explain  it  all,"  she  answered.  "  Do  make  him 
know  that  I  must  do  my  own  work.  The  Lord  has  called 
me." 

She  shook  the  lines  on  Thimble's  neck.  But  she  turned 
once  more  to  see  the  woman  motionless  on  the  tall  roan. 

When  Mrs.  Dalvecker  reached  home  she  was  still  dazed. 
There  was  Chris  Jinks,  leaning  on  his  hoe  as  if  he  had  not 
moved  during  her  absence.  She  rode  into  the  barn,  got  off 
her  horse,  and  pulled  saddle  and  bridle  from  him.  Then 
she  sat  down  quickly  on  an  upturned  half-bushel  measure ; 
she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  It  had  been  years 
since  any  tears  had  come  to  her  eyes,  but  now  they  came 
and  overflowed.  Inextricably  mixed  in  her  mind  were  the 
face  and  the  tones  of  the  young  girl  she  had  just  left, 
and  the  thoughts  of  religion  and  God  and  heaven,  and 
a  vague,  strong  longing  to  be  something  more  than  what 
she  was,  and  different  from  what  she  was — the  same  long- 
ings that  had  been  in  her  heart  in  her  youth,  and  which  in 
later  years  she  had  supposed  belonged  only  to  youth. 


THE    MOTHERS    LETTER  187 

All  her  anger  against  Temple  was  gone.  She  could  not 
be  angry  with  her,  she  did  not  know  wh}^ 

Temple  rode  directly  home.  But  she  could  not  rest.  She 
wanted  to  be  at  work  for  God  all  the  time. 

When  Bartholomew  came  slouching  forward  to  take  the 
pony,  she  asked  him  if  he  had  been  to  preaching.  He 
said,  "  Naw'm  ;  reckoned  he  didn't  care  for  hit." 

The  girl  stood  watching  the  youth  as  he  unsaddled 
Thimble  and  then  took  a  bunch  of  hay  to  rub  off  the  animal. 
He  rubbed  slowly,  up  and  down,  making  a  kind  of  hissing 
noise  as  he  did  so. 

"  Bart,"  said  the  girl,  softly.  Bart  turned  his  heavy  face, 
hardly  raising  his  sullen  eyes  as  he  did  so. 

But  Temple  did  not  shrink.  She  felt  as  if  an  inexhaus- 
tible fountain  of  love  was  in  her  heart — love  that  could  take 
in  this  inert,  vicious  mass  before  her. 

"  Vv'ell,  'um,"  said  the  boy  at  last. 

Temple  came  nearer. 

"  Tm  afraid  I  haven't  always  kept  my  temper  towards 
you  as  I  ought,''  she  said. 

She  was  telling  herself  that  she  certainly  did  feel  loving- 
ly towards  even  Bart ;  and  if  she  could  feel  lovingly  tow- 
ards him,  it  must  be  that  she  really  had  religion. 

No  response  to  her  remark. 

"  And  I  want  you  to  forgive  me,"  she  said. 

No  response,  save  a  slight  grunt.  The  boy  took  a  fresh 
bunch  of  hay  and  rubbed  the  pony's  flank. 

"  You  must  forgive  me,"  insisted  Temple.    "  Can't  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  'um.  I  kin  forgive  yo'  well  enough.  I  don't  care 
how  yo'  treat  me.     'Tain't  nawthin'  to  me." 

The  girl  was  silent.  She  was  wondering  if  there  were 
any  way  to  reach  Bart.  As  she  stood,  there  was  a  slight 
noise  at  the  door  of  the  shed  ;  then  a  little  whine.  She 
looked  around.  The  Newfoundland  was  in  the  doorway. 
He  was  standing  on  three  legs  ;  his  left  front  paw  was 
dangling  helplessly.  A  streak  of  damp  red  went  down  the 
white  hair  of  his  chest. 


l88  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Temple  cried  out.  Her  face  grew  crimson  and  then 
white.  She  flung  herself  on  the  dog,  and  clasped  him  in 
her  arms.  She  had  wondered  why  he  had  not  followed  her 
to  Cain  Creek. 

Yucatan  winced  and  whined,  but  he  licked  his  mistress's 
cheek  and  wagged  his  tail. 

On  the  floor,  with  her  dog  in  her  arms,  Temple  lifted  a 
furious  face  towards  Bart,  who  had  dropped  his  wisps  of  hay 
and  now  leaned  against  the  wall,  not  looking  at  anything. 

"You  did  hit!"  cried  the  girl.  "Oh!" — bending  her 
head  to  Yucatan's  neck — "  my  own  dog !  my  own  true 
dog !" 

Then,  with  head  up  again,  and  more  furiously  than  be- 
fore, 

"You  did  hit!  You — you  villain!  Oh,  I  shall  kill  you 
some  day !" 

"Yes,  'um,"  said  the  boy.  "Thur  critter  snapped  at  me. 
I  flung  er  sharp  rock.  'Twas  down  in  thur  bresh,  thur ! 
Sally  seen  me,  or  I'd  er  lied  'bout  hit." 

Temple  rose,  gently  detaching  herself  from  Yucatan. 
Her  hot  eyes  gazed  searchingly  about.  There  was  the 
handle  of  a  rake,  broken  from  the  rake  itself.  She  ran  tow- 
ards it,  seized  it,  swung  it  furiously,  and  it  came  cracking 
down  upon  Bart's  shoulders. 

Then  it  dropped  from  the  girFs  hand  as  if  it  had  been  a 
red-hot  iron  bar.  She  stood  one  instant  glaring  at  the 
boy;  then  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  moaned, 
self-contempt  stinging  her  intolerably. 

But  the  boy  did  not  moan.  He  had  shrunk  when  the 
blow  fell ;  he  tried  to  dodge  it,  but,  having  taken  it,  he 
pressed  his  lips  together  in  silence.  He  was  very  ugly  to 
look  at  as  he  stood  there. 

After  a  moment  the  girl  removed  her  hands.  She  gazed 
at  her  companion  and  seemed  to  try  to  speak.  There  was 
a  dreadful  fight  going  on  in  her  soul. 

Something  was  telling  her  to  ask  Bart's  forgiveness,  and 
something  was  telling  her  not  to  do  so. 


THE    MOTHER  S    LETTER  l8g 

Yucatan  crept  nearer  to  her,  and  put  his  head  on  her 
foot. 

"Bart,"  said  Temple,  sharply,  "go  and  tell  Sally  to 
come  here." 

"Yes,  'um,"  answered  Bart,  and  he  moved  towards  the 
door.  But  he  stopped  before  he  left  the  shed.  He  stopped 
to  say,  in  his  husky  voice, 

"  I'm  glad  I  hain't  gurt  religion,  I  am." 

Then  he  went  out. 

When  the  yellow  woman  reached  the  shed  ten  minutes 
later  she  found  Temple  lying  on  the  floor  and  the  dog 
stretched  beside  her.  The  pony  was  standing  near,  a  long, 
dry  blade  from  a  cornstalk  depending  from  his  mouth. 

But  Sally  did  not  see  Thimble ;  she  scarcely  saw  the 
dog,  because  of  her  anxiety  about  her  young  mistress. 
Temple  was  sobbing  heavily  and  dryly  ;  she  was  absolutely 
gasping  with  the  agony  she  was  suffering. 

Sally  knelt  down  by  Temple ;  she  put  her  great,  mus- 
cular hand  on  the  hot  forehead. 

"  Now,  don't  yer  take  on  so.  Miss  Temple.  Yo'  take 
everything  so  hard — so  dreffle  hard.  Yo'  suffer  so,  yo'  do. 
Curm  now,  de  dawg  '11  be  all  right.  His  leg's  hurt,  dat's 
'bout  all.  We'll  hev  Mis'  Ammidown  out  hyar,  an'  put  it 
in  two  sticks.  Laws,  Miss  Temple,  we'll  fotch  him  'round 
all  right.  Don't  take  on  so !  Bart  am  er  limb  er  Satan, 
.   shore !" 

Sally  sat  down  and  lifted  Temple  into  her  arms. 

"My  own  dog!"  said  Temple,  brokenly,  "my  true  lurv ! 
My  Yucatan,  that's  always  lurved  me  best  of  all !  And,  oh, 
Sall}^,  I  thought  I  was  a  Christian  !  And  I  did  want  to  kill 
Bart.  I  struck  him.  I  tell  you,  Sally,"  a  fierce  flash  com- 
ing to  her  eyes,  "  I  just  wish  I'd  struck  him  harder !" 

"  Bart  ain't  no  'count,"  soothingly  answered  Sally. 

Temple  was  silent  a  moment.  She  was  still  sobbing. 
Then  she  said, 

"  Perhaps  Bart  '11  stop  my  being  a  Christian  and  helping 
to  save  souls." 


igo  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"Yo'  jes'  be  reasonable,"  soothingly,  from  Sally.  "Bart 
can't.  Yo'  jes'  go  right  ter  Asheville  arter  Mis'  Ammidown 
ergin.     It'll  take  urp  yer  mind,  won't  it,  honey  ?     Yo'  jes' 

go." 

Without  waiting  for  any  answer,  Sally  put  the  saddle  again 
on  the  pony's  back.  She  bridled  him ;  then,  with  her  arm 
thrust  through  the  bridle,  she  stooped  over  her  mistress, 
who  was  now  sitting  on  the  floor  with  her  hand  on  Yuca- 
tan's head. 

The  yellow  woman  smoothed  the  girl's  hair,  picked  up 
her  hat,  and  put  it  on. 

"  We  jes'  gurt  to  hev  Mis'  Ammidown,"  she  said. 

Temple  made  no  response.  She  rose  and  got  into  the 
saddle.  She  looked  down  at  the  dog,  who  had  risen  pite- 
ously  to  his  three  legs,  and  who  was  whining  to  accompany 
his  mistress. 

Temple's  lip  quivered. 

"You  take  care  of  him,  Sally,"  she  said. 

It  seemed  to  Mrs.  Ammidown  and  to  most  of  the  guests 
at  Battery  Park  Hotel  that  it  was  still  rather  early  in  the 
day  when  Miss  Crawford's  pony,  with  Miss  Crawford  on 
his  back,  came  galloping  towards  the  side  entrance. 

The  girl  came  towards  the  side  because  she  saw  her 
friend  strolling  along  a  path  with  a  book  in  her  hand.  Mrs. 
Ammidown  usually  had  a  book  in  her  hand. 

"  There's  that  Crawford  girl,"  said  a  lady  who  was  sitting 
on  a  bench  a  few  yards  away.  "  I  don't  know  what  there 
is  that  seems  so  interesting — " 

"  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Ammidown,  calmly  interrupting  ; 
"  it's  because  she  is  so  suggestive,  and  she  makes  your 
blood  go  as  it  used  to  go  when  you  were  twenty  years  old. 
And  anybody  who  can  do  that  for  us — " 

The  speaker  smiled  instead  of  finishing  her  sentence. 
She  walked  out  quickly  towards  Temple,  who  was  slowly 
walking  her  horse. 

This  was  the  first  time  the  girl  had  come  to  Asheville 
without  previously  changing  her  shabby  short  dress  and 


THE    MOTHER  S    LETTER 


191 


old  velvet  coat  for  the  one  decent,  ordinary  suit  that  she 
owned. 

"  It's  Yucatan  this  time,"  said  Temple,  without  any 
preliminary  salutation.  "  And  Bart  did  it  again.  I  want 
you  to  come  quick  and  fix  his  leg." 

There  were  times  when  Mrs.  Ammidown  acted  with  the 
leisurely  appearing  promptness  of  the  physician.  She  did 
so  now.  She  ordered  her  horse  saddled,  and  then  she  took 
Temple  to  her  own  room  while  she  made  herself  ready. 

"I  should  advise  you  to  send  Bartholomew  away,"  she 
remarked,  as  she  stood  before  the  glass  braiding  her  hair 
tightly  for  the  ride. 

"  I  do ;  I  have.  But  he  comes  back,"  was  the  answer. 
"  He  hasn't  any  place  to  stay.  I'm  sorry  for  him,  and  I 
keep  him." 

The  girl  would  not  sit.  She  was  standing  with  her  back 
against  the  wall.  Her  hat  was  on  the  floor  beside  her;  her 
hands  were  clasped  tightly,  and  hanging  in  front  of  her. 

"  I  think,"  said  Temple,  in  a  low  voice  that  yet  was  in- 
tensely piercing — •'  I  think  that  he  will  be  the  means  of 
my  going  to  hell." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  turned  quickly.  The  braid  slipped 
from  her  fingers. 

"  Worse  than  that,"  went  on  Temple,  in  the  same  tone, 
"he  will  stop  me  from  being  a  good  woman  and  serving 
God." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  went  to  the  girl  and  lifted  her  clasped 
hands  in  her  own  warm  grasp. 

"  How  can  he  do  that .?" 

She  put  the  question  tenderly.  She  hardly  dared  to 
show  how  much  she  was  moved.  Always  when  she  was 
with  Temple  she  was  surprised  at  the  girl's  power  to  move 
her. 

"  Because  he  makes  me  hate  him  ;  he  makes  me  want  to 
kill  him.  I  struck  him  just  now.  And  when  I  struck  him 
I  should  have  been  glad  to  see  him  fall  down  dead.  Oh, 
how  wicked  I  am  !" 


ig2  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

She  did  not  raise  her  voice.  She  fixed  her  eyes  on  the 
face  before  her,  and  Mrs.  Ammidown  felt  her  own  face 
yielding  and  trembling. 

But  she  pulled  herself  quickly  together  and  smiled. 

"  Oh  yes  ,•  we're  all  wicked.  But  don't  let  us  dwell  on 
the  fact.  And  let  us  remember  that  God  takes  account  of 
our  provocations ;  and  God  knows  just  the  kind  of  creature 
Bartholomew  is." 

She  went  back  to  the  mirror. 

"  You  think  He  will  forgive  me  .'"'with  painful  earnestness. 

"I  know  He  will." 

Neither  spoke  for  a  few  moments.  At  last  Temple  asked, 
timidly, 

"  Do  you  think  that  Mr.  Mercer  would  still  consider  that 
he— that  I—" 

Here  the  speaker  paused,  and  blushed  deeply. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  dropped  the  brush  she  held.  She  gazed 
silently  at  her  companion,  and  as  she  gazed  she  became 
more  and  more  convinced  that  Temple  was  not  now  refer- 
ring to  religion. 

"  That  Mr.  Mercer  would  consider  ?"  she  repeated,  inter- 
rogatively, and  with  unconscious  sternness.  She  was  ask- 
ing herself  if  her  brother  could  possibly — 

"  I  was  wondering  if  he  would  think  I  was  still  worthy  to 
help  him  in  his  work,"  replied  Temple  now,  with  no 
blush  and  no  girlish  consciousness.  Indeed,  she  did  not 
understand  why  she  had  blushed. 

"  To  help  him  .?" 

"Yes ;  be  his  wife,  you  know,  and  share  his  work." 

"  What  did  you  say  ?" 

There  came  a  gleam  into  the  woman's  eyes. 

Temple  was  now  becoming  calmer. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "he  asked  me.  I'm  to  give  him  my 
answer  in  a  day  or  two.'' 

"  He  asked  you  ?" 

"Yes.  I  know  I'm  inexperienced  and  —  and  —  but  I 
hope  I  could  learn — " 


THE   MOTHER'S   LETTER  I93 

"  You  are  going  to  say  yes,  then  ?" 

The  gleam  was  still  in  Mrs.  Ammidown's  eyes,  and  there 
was  now  an  incisiveness  coming  to  her  voice  in  place  of  the 
mere  surprise. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Temple. 

"  Did  he  tell  you  he  loved  you  .?" 

"  Oh  no.     It's  not  a  question  of  love." 

"  Only  of  marriage,  then  ?" 

"You  know,"  said  Temple,  "  that  I  should  have  to  mar- 
ry him  so  that  I  might  go  with  him  and  work  with  him, 
and—" 

"  Will  you  stop  talking  like  that  ?"  sharply. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Ammidown,  don't  you  think  I'm  right  ?" 

"  I  know  you  are  not  right." 

Temple  gazed  straight  before  her  without  speaking. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  stooped  and  picked  up  the  hair-brush 
from  the  floor.  She  glanced  at  the  girl,  but  did  not  break 
the  silence.  She  saw  the  peculiar  expression  of  resolution 
coming  to  Temple's  mouth,  and  what  seemed  a  certain 
squaring  of  the  chin. 

"  I  am  convinced  that  I'm  right,"  said  the  girl,  "  and 
when  I'm  convinced  of  a  thing  I  have  to  do  it.  If  I  were 
that  kind  of  a  girl  who  thinks  of  love — "  She  hesitated, 
and  the  other  finished  the  sentence  for  her. 

"  But  since  you  have  a  cold  temperament  and  cannot 
love—" 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Ammidown,"  advancing  quickly  towards  that 
lady,  "  that's  just  it.     Have  you  read  my  mother's  letter  ?" 

"  I  have  read  it  twice — three  times." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  do  as  my  mother  counsels." 

That  afternoon,  when  Mrs.  Ammidown  was  back  again 
from  her  surgical  work  for  Yucatan,  she  sat  down  with  Mrs. 
Crawford's  letter  in  her  hand  for  one  more  perusal  before 
she  returned  it  to  its  owner. 

This  is  the  letter  which  this  mother  had  left  to  influence 
her  daughter.  The  words  were  written  in  slender,  unim- 
pressive characters,  strangely  at  variance  with  their  meaning: 
13 


194  AGAINST   HUMAN    NATURE 

"  My  precious  little  girl,  as  you  are  all  I  have  that  is 
precious,  it  is  for  you  that  I  have  the  strongest  desire  that 
is  left  to  me.  And  I  have  always  had  strong  desires — 
strong  —  deep  —  burning.  That's  why  I  have  been  so  un- 
happy. I  ought  only  to  have  cared  a  little  —  loved  a  little, 
or  not  any,  hoped  a  little,  then  I  could  have  been  placid 
and  comfortable.  Instead,  I  have  been  agitated  and  un- 
comfortable. I  have  flung  away  the  comfort  of  years  for 
the  rapture  of  moments.  And  the  moments  have  been 
very  few. 

"  It  is  love  that  brings  rapture.  It  is  love  that  brings 
misery.  Therefore,  never  love.  Mind,  I  am  not  saying 
never  marry.  If  some  good,  upright  man  wants  you  for  his 
wife,  I  tell  you  to  say  yes  to  him — say  yes.  Then  you  will 
never  know  happiness,  but  you  will  never  know  misery. 
And  love  has  days  of  wretchedness  for  every  second  of  bliss. 
And  after  a  little  while — oh,  such  a  very  little  while — there 
is  no  happiness  at  all.  He  —  your  possible  lover  and  hus- 
band— will  get  tired  of  you  long  before  you  have  ceased  to 
think  of  him  with  pulses  growing  fast.  You  will  not  be- 
lieve it  now,  but  he'll  make  you  believe  it.  Then  you  will 
begin  to  eat  your  heart.  It  is  not  well  for  a  woman  to 
spend  her  best  years  eating  her  heart.  That's  what  I  did. 
And  I  am  going  to  die  of  it  sooner  than  you  would.  You 
are  a  great  deal  stronger  than  I  ever  was. 

"  Your  father  was  what  they  call  in  love  with  me.  When 
I  see  how  cold  his  eyes  are  when  they  rest  upon  me  now, 
I  think  how  much  better  it  would  have  been  if  he  had  never 
had  more  than  a  friendship  for  me,  and  I  for  him ;  then  I 
should  not  have  had  this  love  to  remember  and  to  long  for. 
That  is  the  way  it  is.  The  woman  remembers  and  longs ; 
the  man  grows  tired  and  wants  a  new  love.  Anyway,  he 
doesn't  want  the  old  love. 

"  And  there  is  that  disgusting  revulsion  that  is  liable  to 
come  when  disillusion  comes.  When  the  glamour  is  gone 
it  is  not  that  you  see  more  correctly ;  it  is  that  the  face  you 
did  love  is  not  half  as  attractive  as  it  really  is.     At  first  it 


THE    mother's    letter  195 


was  more  beautiful  than  reality,  then  it  is  more  ugly  than 
reality. 

"  I  do  not  suppose  that  your  father  is  a  bad  man.  All 
men  are  like  him  in  this  particular.  Once  he  could  not 
live  unless  I  smiled  upon  him.  Now  he  does  not  know 
whether  I  smile  or  not. 

"  He  knew  how  to  make  love.  No  human  being  ever 
knew  how  better  than  he. 

"  I  was  seventeen  when  he  came  down  to  my  father's 
house.  That  was  in  Louisiana,  you  know.  At  seventeen 
a  Louisiana  girl  is  as  old  as  a  Northern  woman  of  half  a 
dozen  more  years. 

"  He  wakened  my  heart.  I  hope  and  pray  you  will  never 
know  what  it  means  to  have  your  heart  awakened.  Oh,  I 
could  tell  you  in  words  of  fire  all  he  was  to  me  then  !  He 
is  sitting  here  in  the  room  with  me  now  as  I  write.  Some- 
times he  glances  at  me,  and  it  is  as  if  he  looked  at  a  chair  or 
a  log.  The  curse  is  that  I  remember  what  there  can  be  in 
his  eyes.  I  am  only  able  to  write  a  few  lines  before  I  must 
rest.  I  cough  so,  and  then  I  am  so  tired.  But  I  shall  fin- 
ish this  before  I  die.  And  you,  my  little  girl,  will  have  my 
dying  words.  You  know  the  vision  of  the  dying  is  very 
clear.  I  see  into  the  future,  and  I  tell  you  to  fly  from  love 
as  from  death.  You  will  not  read  this  until  you  are  old 
enough  to  understand  it. 

"  I  am  not  beautiful  any  more,  and  if  I  were  I  should 
not  now  be  novel.  After  all,  it  is  novelty  more  than  beauty 
or  charm  that  attracts  men.  There  isn't  any  such  thing  as 
constancy,  remember  that,  not  in  the  male  heart — 

"  It  is  three  weeks  since  I  wrote  the  last  lines.  I  have 
just  been  reading  them  over.  They  are  not  half  strong 
enough.  And  I  thought  I  could  write  such  words  as  would 
be  like  a  hot  iron  to  burn  into  you  that  it  is  misery  to  love, 
save  coolly,  reasonably,  and  love  is  never  cool  or  reason- 
able. But  there  are  no  such  words,  or  if  there  are  I  am 
too  weak  and  sick  to  find  them. 


196  •  AGAINST    HUMAN   NATURE 

"  Sometimes  when  my  cousin  Rosalind  comes  up  from 
the  other  plantation,  I  see  your  father  go  out  and  take  her 
off  her  horse,  and  I  catch  in  his  eyes  that  look  which  used  to 
be  there  for  me.  Not  that  I  care  now.  He  has  that  way 
with  him,  and  women  like  it.  I'm  almost  sure  he  left  some 
one  up  North  who  loved  him  and  believed  in  him.  And 
then  he  fell  in  love  with  me. 

"  Never  let  a  man  look  at  you  in  that  way — never. 

"  I  wish  I  could  find  those  words  that  would  mean  enough 
and  be  strong  enough.  When  I  am  coughing  and  lying  awake 
nights  I  am  trying  all  the  time  to  find  those  strong  words. 
There  must  be  some  such  words  that  would  make  you  re- 
member. 

"  Bear  in  mind  that  I  am  speaking  to  you  from  my  grave. 
If  you  bear  that  thought  with  you,  you  may  remember  not 
to  love,  not  to  go  one  step  in  the  way  with  love.  He  is  a 
shining  angel  at  first.  But  turn  from  him.  Perhaps  you 
will  have  a  cold  temperament,  one  of  those  which  know 
nothing  keenly  and  warmly.  Constantly,  before  you  were 
born,  I  prayed  that  you  might  be  cold.  And  God  some- 
times answers  prayer, 

"  Now  I  am  so  tired  that  I  will  wait  until  to-morrow  be- 
fore I  finish  this — 

"  It  is  to-morrow,  and  I  am  sure  it  is  the  last.  Dear  lit- 
tle daughter,  your  cool  hands  might  have  helped  my  hot 
heart.  But  no  ;  the  grave  is  cool.  And,  after  all,  I  could 
not  find  words  strong  enough  to  tell  you  not  to  love." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  dropped  the  sheets  in  her  lap. 

"  What  a  letter  to  leave  !"  she  said  to  herself.  "  How 
morbid !" 

As  she  sat  there  thinking  of  it  and  what  its  effect  must 
be  on  a  girl  like  Temple,  she  heard  footsteps  in  the  hall, 
then  a  knock  on  her  door. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?"  asked  her  brother. 


XII 


"  MUTUAL    REGARD  " 


When  Mercer  entered  his  sister's  room  he  did  not  at 
first  speak.  He  glanced  at  the  written  sheets  in  Laura's 
lap ;  then  he  sat  down  opposite  her,  his  head  thrown  back 
against  the  chair.  Though  his  features  were  as  remotely 
cold  and  calm  as  usual,  there  was  yet  on  his  face  something 
that  made  it  different.  There  was  some  extraordinary  force 
working  in  him. 

This  Mrs.  Ammidown  felt  rather  than  saw.  But  she  was 
still  thinking  of  Mrs.  Crawford's  letter. 

"  I  call  it  a  crime  for  a  dead  woman  to  leave  commands 
on  the  living." 

She  spoke  with  a  bitter  emphasis.  She  folded  the  letter. 
When  she  had  spoken  she  looked  again  at  her  brother,  and 
perceived  that  he  had  not  noticed  in  the  least  what  she 
had  said.    After  a  moment  she  asked,  "  Well,  what  is  it  now  ?" 

There  was  not  very  much  sympathy  in  her  voice.  She 
was  thinking  of  what  Temple  had  told  her. 

Mercer  leaned  forward  towards  his  sister.  She  noticed 
that  his  hands  were  not  quite  steady.  She  remembered 
him  from  his  boyhood,  and  she  knew  that  his  ordinary  ap- 
pearance was  not  indicative  of  his  temperament;  that  it 
was  only  a  veneering  he  had  built  about  himself — and  an 
excellent  veneering  it  was. 

"You  heard  that  girl  pray.?"  he  inquired. 

This  was  so  entirely  unexpected  that  Mrs.  Ammidown 
could  not  at  first  reply.  But  she  rallied  and  made  the 
satirical  remark  that  she  supposed  that  Temple  was  what 
is  called  "gifted  in  prayer." 


igS  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  Gifted  ?  Yes,  God  has  given  her  this  wonderful  power 
that  she  midit  use  it  for  Him.  She  would  melt  the  hard- 
est  heart." 

"  Has  she  melted  your  heart  ?"     Mercer  did  not  reply. 

He  left  his  seat  suddenly.  He  walked  the  length  of  the 
room,  and  when  he  came  back  he  paused  just  behind  his 
sister  so  that  she  could  not  see  him. 

"  Laura,"  he  said,  "  don't  jeer  at  me." 

There  was  that  in  his  voice  that  made  the  woman  turn 
quickly.  She  stretched  out  her  hand  and  seized  his ;  his 
cold  fingers  closed  tightly  over  hers.  She  pulled  him  down 
to  the  footstool  close  to  her.  She  was  five  years  older  than 
he,  and  was  liable  at  any  moment  to  return  in  her  attitude  of 
mind  to  that  time  when,  as  an  older  sister,  she  had  been 
his  tender  friend  and  confidante.  At  thirty  even  an  iron- 
willed  man  has  moments  when  he  is  not  quite  all  iron, 
particularly  with  a  beloved  sister. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?" 

This  exclamation  from  Mrs.  Ammidown  could  not  have 
reference  to  anything  that  had  been  put  into  words. 

With  a  movement  of  abandon  that  was  infinitely  touch- 
ing in  such  a  man,  Mercer  put  his  head  down  in  his  sister's 
lap. 

"  But  you  don't  know  her."  She  almost  whispered  this 
remark. 

She  was  stroking  his  hair.  Her  eyes  had  suddenly 
filled.  And  there  was  a  faint  resentment  against  Temple 
in  her  heart. 

"  You  are  not  in  the  least  what  is  called  acquainted  with 
her,"  she  went  on. 

"  No  matter.  It  is  written  that  I  must  love  her.  God 
has  willed  it.  I'm  convinced  of  that.  I  can't  fight  against 
that.  From  the  moment  I  saw  her,  met  her  glance,  heard 
her  speak,  felt  that  strange  sweetness  of  her  presence,  I 
knew  I  could  make  no  fight  against  this.  Everything  else 
I  could  fight,  but  not  this — oh,  not  this  !" 

Mercer  had  suddenly  gone  back  to  himself  as  he  had 


"  MUTUAL    REGARD  "  I99 

been  as  a  boy  and  youth.  His  nature,  his  temperament 
arbitrarily  asserted  themselves  in  this  great  moment,  in 
spite  of  all  the  bonds  of  years. 

He  was  now  gazing  into  his  sister's  face.  And  she,  with 
a  curious  mingling  of  fear  and  admiration,  was  responding 
to  his  gaze.  And  she  was  trying  to  banish  that  unreason- 
able emotion  of  anger  towards  Temple. 

"  And  she .?" 

She  did  not  just  then  dare  to  say  any  more,  lest  he 
should  suspect  the  existence  of  this  anger. 

"  I  don't  know  what  she  thinks  or  feels,"  was  the  answer. 
"  Only  I'm  quite  sure  she  does  not  love  me.  Why  should 
she  ?  How  could  she,  and  in  this  little  time,  too  ?  There 
is  nothing  about  me  to  draw  her  to  me  as  she  draws  me  to 
her ;  nothing.     And  I'm  afraid  to  hope — " 

He  paused,  his  words  showing  the  humility  of  the  true 
lover. 

His  blazing  eyes,  his  tremulous  mouth,  the  strange,  trans- 
figuring effulgence  on  his  face  made  his  sister's  heart  ache 
more  and  more. 

Even  she  had  been  deceived  by  the  armor  he  had  worn, 
the  repression  he  had  put  upon  himself  in  the  last  half- 
dozen  years. 

The  fiery  enthusiasm  of  his  nature  had  found  expression 
in  his  work,  and  this  was  one  of  the  secrets  of  his  mar- 
vellous success  in  moving  others. 

"  You  afraid  to  hope  !" 

Mrs.  Ammidown  made  this  exclamation  with  pride.  She 
bent  over  and  kissed  her  brother's  forehead.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  she  had  gone  back  more  than  a  dozen  years — to 
those  days  when  Richard  had  let  her  see  what  he  feared, 
and  longed  for,  and  felt. 

"  She  ought  to  be  grateful  for  the  love  of  such  a  man  as 
you  are,"  she  said. 

Mercer  smiled  a  little. 

"  I  haven't  looked  at  this  as  a  matter  for  gtatitude  on 
her  part,"  he  responded. 


?? 


200  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  Did  you  tell  her  about  this  sudden  love  ?" 

As  Mrs.  Ammidown  put  this  question  she  was  thinking 
of  Temple's  manner  when  she  had  spoken  of  sharing  Mer- 
cer's work. 

"No.  She  would  have  been  shocked,  repelled,  I'm 
afraid.  I  tried  to  be  calm  and  cold,  and  I  asked  her  to 
marry  me  and  share  my  labors.  I  think  I  told  her  how 
wonderfully  she  was  gifted.  Anyway,  I  meant  to  tell  her 
that.  Mostly  my  mind  was  occupied  in  the  effort  to  seem 
calm." 

"You  are  just  like  a  man  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ammidown. 

"And  why  shouldn't  I  be  like  a  man?  What  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"  I  mean  that  you  would  have  a  woman  marry  you 
whether  she  loves  you  or  doesn't  love  you." 

"  Yes ;  but  I  would  prefer  that  she  should  love  me.' 

"  She  isn't  likely  to  be  the  first  to  proclaim  that  love. 
How  utterly  blind  men  are  !" 

Mercer  looked  intently  at  his  sister.  His  face  grew  paler 
as  he  looked. 

"  You  think  I  ought  to  tell  her  ?"  he  asked.  "  Remem- 
ber, Laura,  I  don't  know  women  at  all.  They  are  strangers 
to  me  ;  they  seem  not  to  belong  to  the  human  race  as  men 
do — only  these  rough  mountain  women,  who  are  another 
species.  I  have  always  thought  I  never  should  love,  and 
it  seemed  greatly  best  that  I  should  not." 

"  If  you  know  a  person  loves  you,  that  fact  inclines  you 
to  love  that  person.  There  is  nothing  new  in  that  asser- 
tion, and,  like  other  trite  things,  it  is  very  true." 

"  But  it  is  so  very  soon." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  advising  you." 

The  woman  spoke  more  lightly  than  she  felt.  She  added, 
with  serious  emphasis, 

"  Temple  Crawford  is  rather  a  mystery  to  me.  She 
actually  thinks  she  has  a  cold  temperament." 

Here  the  speaker  did  not  restrain  a  slight  laugh. 

"  And  what  do  you  think  ?" 


"mutual    regard"  201 

"  I  ?  Oh,  I  know  better  ;  it's  not  a  matter  of  opinion  with 
me.  She  is  as  warm  as  the  tropics,  but  she  has  a  dasli  of 
something,  I  know  not  what,  in  her.  Still,  firmly  to  believe 
yourself  cold  may  be  just  as  good,  or  bad,  as  to  be  so. 
There's  something  in  her  m2i<e-up  which  enables  her  to 
contemplate  marrying  a  man  whom  she  does  not  love  if 
her  judgment  seems  to  approve.  And  that  makes  a  puzzle 
of  her,  because  she  seems  superlatively  sensitive  and  in- 
nately refined.  Why  not  approve  of  the  man  you  love,  and 
not  marry  the  man  of  whom  you  simply  approve,  and  whom 
you  don't  love.''  She's  got  a  lot  of  stuff  in  her  head^  but 
perhaps  life  will  teach  her  better,  only  she'll  have  to  suffer 
first.  She  has  an  indefinable  and  powerful  personal  charm. 
Perhaps  it's  magnetism.  Don't  think  I  don't  feel  it,  simply 
because  I'm  another  woman.  That  would  be  too  common 
and  too  stupid. 

"  Her  father  was  an  attractive,  selfish  scamp.  He  could 
hardly  help  making  love  if  a  woman  were  just  passable. 
She  doesn't  respect  him,  but  perhaps  it  is  natural  for  her 
to  judge  men  by  him  in  some  ways.  And  this  letter — 
Richard,  I'm  going  to  let  you  read  this  letter.  You  will  see 
what  an  influence  it  would  have.  Perhaps  she  thinks  she 
has  a  cold  temperament  because  her  mother  prayed  that 
she  should  have  it.  And  the  child  has  come  up  in  the  odd- 
est way — exactly  as  she  pleased." 

Mercer  took  the  letter.  He  rose,  and  stood  a  moment 
with  it  in  his  hand. 

Finally  he  spoke,  his  .voice  deepening  with  his  resolu- 
tion, 

"  I  shall  marry  her  if  she'll  consent,  whether  she  loves 
me  or  not." 

"Oh,  Richard,  you  are  blind — blind  !" 

Laura  gazed  up  at  him  as  she  spoke.     She  added, 

"  I  think  she  will  say  yes.  She  wants  to  be  an  evan- 
gelist." 

A  flash  of  light  came  over  the  man's  face. 

He  left  the  room  with  Mrs.  Crawford's  letter  in  his  hand. 


202  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Mrs.  Ammidown  was  telling  herself  that  he  ought  to 
read  it. 

The  door  opened  again  directly,  and  Mercer  came  back. 
He  laid  the  letter  on  a  table,  saying, 

"  I  can't  read  it;  she  has^^ot  asked  me  to  read  it." 

"  But  I  am  sure  she  would  be  willing.  And  it  would  ex- 
plain so  much,  perhaps.  But,  then,"  Mrs.  Ammidown  hes- 
itated, "  nothing  can  be  explained." 

She  moved  quickly  towards  her  brother  and  put  an  arm 
over  his  neck,  as  she  had  done  when  they  were  children. 

"  Dear  little  Dick,"  she  exclaimed,  "  can't  I  make  you 
see  what  you  are  doing }  I'm  sure  she  doesn't  love  you. 
Don't  trust  your  life  with  her  !" 

But  Mercer  only  smiled  as  he  kissed  his  sister  and  left 
the  room. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  sat  down  as  one  who  gives  up.  Then 
she  rose  and  hurried  into  the  corridor.  She  called  her 
brother  back. 

"I've  told  you,  but  I  want  to  say  it  again  :  tell  that  girl 
how  5^ou  love  her  Do  you  think  coldness  will  win  her .? 
Richard,  be  reasonable,  be  human.  Let  your  heart  speak. 
Remember,  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about." 

She  pushed  him  away  from  her  and  was  left  alone. 

"  Now,  if  I  were  like  Temple  I  should  pray,"  she  said, 
aloud. 

But  she  did  not  pray.  She  presently  went  to  the  window 
and  threw  up  the  sash.  She  leaned  out,  inhaling  the  fresh, 
sweet  air,  and  looking  off  towards  the  mountains.  But  just 
now  there  were  no  mountains.  As  if  in  a  freak,  they  had 
veiled  themselves  in  a  thick  mist.  The  great  peaks  were 
obliterated. 

But  as  she  looked  a  portion  of  the  cloud  lifted,  as  if  it  were 
upheld  by  some  gigantic  hand,  and  the  woman  saw  the  top 
of  Busbee  and  the  sort  of  rift  which  from  this  distance  hinted 
at  the  lower  elevations  where  were  the  farms  among  which 
she  had  often  ridden,  and  where  the  Crawford  house  was. 
She  knew  just  where  the  Swanannoa  went  on  beneath  its 


"mutual  regard"  203 

graceful  trees  and  by  its  high-banked  curves.  Just  for  one 
moment;  then  the  mist  was  let  down  again,  and  there  was 
only  a  level  of  cloud  to  be  seen. 

Mercer  rode  out  of  Asheville  an  hour  later.  He  took  the 
road  to  the  junction,  but  he  turned  off  and  went  up  through 
the  woods  to  visit  a  man  who  had  begged  him  to  come  and 
see  "  his  'oman."  She  was  tied  down  to  her  bed  with  rheu- 
matism, but  she  longed  to  see  "  thur  new  preacher "  and 
have  him  pray  with  her. 

And  Mercer  prayed  with  her,  and  sat  by  her  bed  an  hour, 
telling  her  of  the  Lord's  love  and  of  the  promises  of  the 
Gospel. 

He  sat  there  because  he  made  himself  do  it,  although  it 
seemed  as  if  his  will  could  hardly  keep  his  body  from  fly- 
ing off  towards  that  log-house  which  he  believed  held  his 
destiny. 

A  man  often  has  the  belief,  at  one  time  or  another  in  his 
life,  that  some  woman  has  in  her  hand  the  very  threads  of  his 
existence.  And  generally  a  man  lives  to  smile  at  that 
epoch  in  his  journey  through  the  world,  and  to  be  convinced 
that  if  it  had  not  been  that  woman  it  would  have  been  an- 
other ;  that  it  was  a  phase  of  his  life  that  was  ruling  him 
more  than  that  particular  feminine  individuality. 

Mercer  stayed  in  the  mountain  hut  until  the  wretched 
rheumatic  seemed  comforted.  He  promised  to  come  again 
the  next  day,  and  he  went  away,  leaving  a  substantial  as  well 
as  a  spiritual  token  of  his  presence. 

The  husband  walked  along  by  his  horse,  thanking  him 
fervently  in  the  midst  of  his  complaints  about  the  hard  luck 
it  was  to  have  his  'oman  sick  and  planting  time  going  on  ; 
and  he  didn't  know  how  he  should  make  "er  crap  noways, 
on'y  young  Dalvecker  wor  comin'  over  ter  give  him  a  lift." 

"  Link  reckons  as  how  he's  gurt  thur  luck  in  his  'oman," 
said  the  man,  grinning  and  showing  his  yellow  teeth. 

"I  thought  Dalvecker  wasn't  married,"  remarked  Mercer, 
trying  to  be  interested. 

"  Oh,  he  hain't  yit  ]  but  he  an'  Miss  Temple's  gwine  to 


204 


AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 


make  er  match.  Miss  Temple,  she's  as  splendid  er  gal  's 
ever  I  viewed  anywhars,  but  I  d'  know  how  she'll  be  fur 
craps,  an'  thur  plough,  an'  sech.  She's  kind  of  er  wild  filly, 
she  is.  But  she's  er  picter  on  that  thur  pony  ;  jest  to  see 
her  er  flyin'  down  by  thur  branch  thur — " 

The  man  paused  as  if  contemplating  the  picture  in  his 
mind. 

Mercer  turned  a  steady  face  towards  him. 

"That's  the  gossip,  I  suppose,"  he  remarked,  as  if  inci- 
dentally. 

"  It's  jest  straight  from  Link's  mar.  I  seen  her  on'y 
day  'fore  yisterdy.  She  said  as  'twas  fixed.  I  hope  you'll 
get  hout  hyar  right  soon  ergin  ter  see  my  ole'  oman,  Mr. 
Mercer." 

The  preacher  promised,  and  the  two  separated. 

Mercer's  horse  was  damp  from  his  gallop  and  he  was 
breathing  heavily  when  he  had  brought  his  rider  within 
sight  of  the  Crawford  house — and  this  rider  was  usually 
very  careful  of  his  horse.  But  Mercer  himself  was  appar- 
ently perfectly  cool  and  composed. 

It  was  Miss  Drowdy  who  met  him  just  in  front  of  the 
house. 

"  I  came  to  see  Miss  Crawford,"  said  the  man,  after  the 
greeting  was  over. 

"  She's  in  there,"  was  the  answer,  as  the  speaker  glanced 
towards  the  open  door.  "  She's  takin'  care  of  her  dorg. 
She  seems  to  love  dorgs  more'n  most  folks." 

There  was  an  unmistakable  air  about  Miss  Drowdy  that 
showed  that  she  would  like  a  little  conversation  with  some 
one.  But  Mercer  did  not  stop  for  conversation.  He  had 
dismounted,  and  he  \valked  directly  to  the  door  and  entered, 
hat  in  hand. 

There  were  only  two  in  the  room,  the  girl  and  the  dog,  and 
they  were  both  on  the  floor. 

Yucatan's  shaggy  white  head  was  lying  on  Temple's  lap. 
His  leg,  closely  bandaged,  stuck  out  straight ;  he  was  rolling 
his  eyes  up  at  his  mistress  and  then  at  this  intruder.     He 


"mutual  regard"  205 

immediately  began  to  tliump  his  tail  on  the  floor,  and  he  tried 
to  rise,  but  he  was  held  down  by  the  girl's  arm. 

Temple  had  a  Testament  and  Psalms  in  her  hand. 

"  I'm  keeping  Yucatan  from  hurting  his  leg,"  she  said ; 
"  you  know  he's  got  to  be  kept  from  hurting  his  leg  now 
until  it  is  well  again." 

Mercer  said  yes,  he  supposed  so,  and  he  stood  looking 
down  at  the  girl. 

"  I've  just  been  told  that  you  are  going  to  marry  young 
Dalvecker,"  he  said,  without  any  preliminary.  "  In  that 
case,  of  course,  you  cannot  consider  my  proposition." 

His  voice  was  so  very  calm,  as  if  he  were  speaking  of  the 
sale  of  some  land,  that  Temple  did  not  blush  or  look  con- 
fused as  she  answered,  concisely, 

"  No,  I  am  not  going  to  marry  Link,  and  I  have  told  him 
so." 

It  was  in  this  moment  of  relief  that  something  peculiar 
came  into  the  preacher's  eyes.  He  still  fought,  however, 
for  that  self-control  which  he  meant  always  to  maintain. 
The  only  outlet  to  the  warmth  and  intensity  of  his  nature 
was  the  outlet  he  allowed  it  when  he  was  conducting  relig- 
ious meetings.  It  was  for  the  work  of  God  that  he  must 
use  the  strength  and  the  vitality  that  God  had  given  him. 

"  You  did  not  break  a  promise  to  him  V  he  asked,  not 
knowing  how  stern  his  voice  sounded,  anxious  only  that  it 
should  not  weaken  in  a  tremor  of  gratitude  and  joy.  It 
was  in  vain  that  he  tried  to  call  that  joy  senseless. 

Temple  was  looking  up  at  him  like  a  child  who  is  being 
catechised. 

"  Oh  no,"  she  answered  ;  "  I  would  not  promise.  I  said 
I  would  think  about  it,  and  I  have  thought,  and  I've  seen 
him  ;  he  knows  how  I've  made  up  my  mind." 

Mercer  walked  forward  and  deposited  his  hat  on  the  table 
with  great  care.  Then  he  put  his  hands  behind  him  and 
clasped  them  tightly  as  he  gazed  down  at  the  girl. 

Her  face  was  still  upturned  towards  him,  and  so  it  hap- 
pened that  he  gazed  directly  into  her  eyes. 


206  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

The  gaze  lasted  but  an  instant.  The  man's  hands  grew 
cold  and  his  eyes  burned;  his  temples  beat  heavily. 

He  recalled  his  sister's  counsel.  Should  he  tell  this  girl 
that  he  loved  her } 

He  had  a  strong  fear  that  to  speak  thus  would  shock  and 
repel  her.  If  he  did  not  know  women,  he  thought  that  he 
knew  human  nature.  And  he  dared  not — no,  virtually,  he 
dared  not  mention  his  love. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  there  was  not  a  hint  of  any  such 
emotion  in  the  girl's  face.  Certainly  his  sister  must  be 
wrong  j  it  would  be  better  in  this  instance  to  wait. 

He  sat  down  and  looked  into  the  fire.  As  soon  as  he 
could  bring  his  voice  into  proper  subjection,  he  asked, 

"  Have  you  sufficiently  considered  the  proposition  I  made 
to  you  ?" 

Temple's  eyes  were  fixed  on  her  dog  as  she  answered, 

"I  think  I  have." 

"And  will  you  be  my  wife  and  share  in  my  work?" 

"Yes." 

Mercer  drew  a  long  breath.  He  straightened  himself  in 
his  chair.  He  tried  to  speak,  but  his  lips  were  dry.  He 
tried  again,  and  said, 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  are  greatly,  wonderfully  gifted.  I 
believe  our  marriage  will  be  blessed.  I  believe  that  together 
we  can  do  a  great  work." 

"  I  hope  so,"  responded  Temple,  in  a  low  voice.  Then 
she  said  that  she  felt  that  a  marriage  where  there  was  mutual 
respect  and  regard — here  she  hesitated,  and  finally  contin- 
ued, "  I  suppose  this  respect  is  mutual — as  I  was  saying,  only 
such  a  marriage  seems  fitting  for  reflecting  human  beings. 
Feeling  counts  for  nothing  in  the  long-run.  We  have  minds 
and  judgment  to  use." 

She  spoke  with  great  deliberation,  and  paused  often  in  the 
selection  of  her  words.  She  had  not  long  ago  begun  to  try 
to  discard  the  terms  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  employing, 
and  if  she  took  a  great  deal  of  time  she  was  more  likely  to 
succeed  in  this  attempt. 


"mutual  regard"  207 

As  Mercer  heard  her  he  inwardly  thanked  Heaven  that 
he  had  been  wise,  and  had  refrained  from  speaking  of  love. 
And  still  there  sounded  in  his  ears  his  sister's  exclamation, 

"You  are  blind— blind  !" 

But  his  sister  was  emotional,  and  her  judgment  could  not 
be  as  good  as  his.  Besides,  she  was  prejudiced  in  his  favor. 
She  could  not  judge. 

"  That  being  the  case,"  he  said,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  it  is 
not  necessary  that  we  should  delay.  Do  you  agree  with 
me.?" 

Temple  smoothed  Yucatan's  head.  She  was  gazing  down 
at  the  dog,  and  suddenly,  and  it  seemed  to  her  unaccount- 
ably, tears  filled  her  eyes  and  blinded  her. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  have  any  sensible  reason  for  delay," 
she  answered,  in  a  moment.  "  Perhaps  you'll  think  it's  fool- 
ish, Mr.  Mercer" — here  she  lifted  her  eyelids  for  an  instant, 
and  her  companion  saw  the  drops  on  the  thick  lashes.  And 
still  he  combated  his  inclination,  and  held  himself  quietly 
in  his  chair,  his  pulses  beating  in  his  throat  and  in  his  eyes, 
while  some  irresistible  wave  seemed  rising,  rising  within 
him. 

But  he  held  it  a  mark  of  superiority  to  be  able  to  gov- 
ern a  natural  impulse,  even  though  the  impulse  were  entirely 
innocent.  And  had  not  Temple  just  talked  of  judgment 
and  reason  ?     She  would  shrink  from  anything  else. 

She  had  paused,  but  now  she  began  again.  She  repeated 
her  last  words. 

"  Perhaps  you'll  think  it's  foolish,  Mr.  Mercer,  but  I 
couldn't  think  of — of  leaving  here  until  Yucatan's  leg  was 
nearly  well.  And — and — oh,  I  don't  see  how  I  could  ever 
part  from  him,  or  from  Thimble  !" 

She  caught  her  breath  sharply. 

Mercer  glanced  at  her,  and  then  looked  away  immediately 
as  he  answered, 

"You  need  not  part  from  them  ;  surely  not." 

"  Oh,  that  is  so  good  of  you  !  You  see,  I  didn't  know  what 
your  plans  might  be,  and  I  would  not  do  anything  to  hinder 


2o8  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

your  work.  I  would  not  put  a  straw  in  your  way.  I  want 
to  help  you  all  I  can." 

She  was  so  guileless,  so  humble,  so  utterly  sincere  that  it 
grew  harder  and  harder  for  her  lover  to  keep  up  the  proper 
self-restraint.  There  was  one  thought,  however,  which  helped 
him  greatly.  That  was  the  conviction  that  it  was  not  to 
himself  that  she  deferred,  but  to  his  work. 

As  he  sat  there  his  attitude  partook  of  his  mental  effort ; 
it  stiffened  with  more  and  more  rigidity. 

He  did  not  know  what  else  to  say.  He  did  not  feel  that 
he  could  now  ask  Temple  to  set  the  time  of  their  marriage. 

As  he  looked  at  her  it  came  to  him  forcibly  how  little  he 
knew  her.  Indeed,  how  could  he  know  her  at  all  ?  But  a 
few  days  before  he  had  not  been  aware  of  her  existence. 
Like  all  genuine  lovers,  however,  he  believed  in  that  mys- 
terious intuition  in  regard  to  the  beloved. 

But  what  if,  in  his  real  ignorance,  he  should  wound  her 
in  any  way  ? 

He  would  study  her ;  he  would  watch  her  as  love  may 
watch.  And  some  day  in  the  future  there  might  come  a 
time  when  he  would  tell  her  something  of  what  was  in  his 
heart  now.     All  of  it  could  never  be  told. 

Under  the  sweetness  of  this  thought  he  found  it  impos- 
sible to  sit  quietly.  He  rose  and  walked  to  the  door.  He 
vaguely  saw  Sally  coming  up  towards  the  house  with  a 
large  basket  of  something  poised  on  her  head.  He  watched 
her  as  if  she  had  been  an  inanimate  object. 

"Fo'  Gawd's  sake,  what's  happened  to  de  preacher?" 
Sally  said  to  Almina,  whom  she  met  wandering  rather  aim- 
lessly about,  looking  at  the  scenery. 

She  was  constantly  in  an  exalted  state  as  to  nerves  and 
spirit.  "  It  was  the  air,  she  supposed.  It  really  seemed  as 
if  she  could  be  taken  up  for  intoxication  just  breathin'  this 
air ;  but  since  she  was  here  she  guessed  she'd  got  to 
breathe  this  air  or  nothing."  Therefore  she  continued  to 
breathe  it. 

"  The  preacher  ?"  she  repeated,  in  an  indefinite  manner  ; 


"mutual  regard  209 

"oh,  I  d'  know.  He  seems  to  be  made  of  cast-iron,  except 
when  he's  preachin',  'n'  then  he's  fire  'n'  flame  'n' — 'n' 
blazes.  I  'ain't  no  idea  what  to  make  of  him.  Is  he  here 
still  ?" 

Almina  had  already  fallen  into  the  habit  of  talking  in- 
timately with  the  yellow  woman. 

Sally  did  not  nod  her  head  because  she  could  not,  but 
she  said  yes  with  her  eyelids.  Then  she  remarked  that 
she  "jes'  seen  de  preacher  standin'  like  er  stone  figger  in 
de  do'way." 

Having  said  this,  Sally  went  into  her  own  cabin. 

Miss  Drowdy  continued  to  walk  about  and  to  talk  to  her- 
self. She  was  remarking  that  she  had  never  in  her  life 
before  been  where  there  wasn't  a  thing  for  her  to  do. 
There  wasn't  even  a  mantel-shelf  to  dust.  Since  the  Lord 
had  let  her  come,  she  s'posed  she  must  have  come  for 
some  good  purpose. 

Then  she  fell  to  thinking  of  the  letter  which  had  made 
her  leave  her  home.  Roger  ought  to  have  known  what 
kind  of  a  person  his  daughter  was.  She  didn't  need  any 
one.     She — 

Here  her  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  hearing  Temple's 
voice  calling  her  name. 

Almina  hurried  towards  the  house.  She  saw  Mr.  Mercer 
riding  away. 

Temple  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  She 
had  her  hands  put  together  tightly,  and  her  eyes  were  very 
bright.  When  Almina  entered  she  took  a  quick  step  for- 
ward, and,  to  that  woman's  unspeakable  surprise,  she  flung 
an  arm  over  her  neck  as  she  exclaimed, 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you're  here  !  I  must  speak  to  some- 
body.    And  Sally  isn't  the  one  now." 

Miss  Drowdy  felt  as  if  this  were  a  kind  of  answer  from 
Providence  to  her  thoughts. 

She  put  her  arms  tenderly  about  the  girl  as  she  asked, 

"  What   is   it  ?      I   hope   there   ain't  anything  troublin' 
you." 
14 


2IO  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

But  Temple  did  not  reply.  She  sobbed  a  little  with  her 
head  on  her  companion's  shoulder.  Almina  waited  for  her 
to  speak.     She  did  not  like  to  question  her  any  more. 

After  what  seemed  a  long  time  the  girl  spoke,  without 
lifting  her  head. 

"  I  reckon  I  love  the  mountains  too  well.  I  reckon  I've 
got  'em  in  my  heart." 

Here  a  shuddering  sigh,  but  no  more  sobs. 

The  woman  patted  the  girl's  shoulder  gently. 

"  Keep  'em  in  your  heart,  then,"  she  said,  "  and  you  'ain't 
got  to  part  with  um." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know !  But  I  sh'll  take  Thimble  an' 
Yucatan.     I  kin  do  that." 

"  Mercy  sake  !     Where  you  goin',  anyway  ?" 

Temple  raised  her  head.  Her  eyes  were  inflamed,  but 
they  were  dry  ;  her  face  was  pale. 

"  Not  anywhere  at  present,"  she  answered.  "  Mr.  Mer- 
cer said  his  work  would  be  among  these  mountains  for 
many  months,  and  then  among  the  States  about  here." 

"  Mr.  Mercer  ?" 

"  Yes ,  and  it's  among  such  people  that  I  can  work,  you 
see."     The  speaker's  eyes  began  to  flash. 

"  Are  you  going  to  marry  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  in  a  few  weeks.  He  thinks  it  will  be  losing  time 
to  wait,  and  I  think  so,  too." 

"  But  you  don't  know  each  other,"  said  Miss  Drowdy. 

"  Our  work  is  the  same ;  that's  the  main  thing,"  was  the 
answer.  "  And,  as  Mr.  Mercer  says,  we  shall  be  united  in 
that.  Sometimes  I  can't  wait  to  begin.  I  shall  do  what  I 
can  all  the  time  now." 

Miss  Drowdy  walked  across  the  room  and  sat  down. 
She  said  afterwards  that  under  the  circumstances  she 
didn't  think  it  was  strange  that  she  hadn't  the  strength 
to  stand   up. 

"  So  it's  all  settled?"  she  asked,  after  a  moment.  "And 
you  haven't  any  doubts  ?" 

"Why  should  I  have?"  in  surprise. 


"mutual    regard"  211 

"Oh,  I  —  I  —  oh,  of  course  I  don't  know  anything  about 
it.     I  think  Mr.  Mercer  is  a  real  good  man." 

Having  said  this,  Almina  gazed  in  uncontrollable  interest 
and  wonder  at  the  girl  before  her. 

At  last  she  remarked, 

"  I  should  like  to  ask  you  one  question.  Temple." 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

"  I  s'pose  you  'ain't  never  thought  you  was  in  love  with 
any  one,  have  you  .'"' 

"Oh  no;  no,  indeed." 

"  I  was  sure  you  hadn't." 

"  Of  course  not.     I'm  not  that  kind  of  a  girl." 

"  I  declare  there's  one  thing  I  must  say,"  exclaimed  Al- 
mina, with  a  great  deal  of  emphasis,  "  and  that  is  that  you 
look  exactly  like  that  kind  of  a  girl !" 

Temple  laughed  slightly.  The  woman  who  heard  this 
laugh  could  not  imagine  why  there  seemed  something  pa- 
thetic in  it.     But  perhaps  the  pathos  was  in  her  own  heart. 

Mercer,  riding  down  towards  the  State  road,  found  it  dif- 
ficult to  think  coherently.  And  he  was  one  of  those  who 
wished  always  to  be  able  to  order  his  thoughts  as  a  com- 
mander orders  his  troops  to  defile  before  him. 

The  man  was  exultant ;  and  yet  his  judgment  told  him 
that  he  had  not  sufficient  cause  for  that  exultation.  He 
was  man-like  enough  to  think  that  he  would  be  able  to  win 
Temple's  love  ;  and,  as  his  wife,  all  other  men  would  be  de- 
barred from  trying  to  win  her. 

Cantering  around  a  curve,  Mercer  came  suddenly  upon 
another  horseman  who  was  coming  at  much  greater  speed. 
It  was  Link  Dalvecker,  and  the  two  men  pulled  in  their 
horses  suddenly  and  looked  at  each  other. 

It  was  strange  to  see  a  face  so  fair  of  skin  and  beard  look 
so  black  as  did  Dalvecker's  face  as  he  sat  there  on  his  horse 
gazing  at  the  man  opposite  him. 

"I  made  shore  I'd  meet  urp  with  yo'  along  hyar,"  he 
said,  presently.  "  I  couldn't  make  urp  my  mind  ter  shoot 
yo'.     But  you've  gurt  ter  fight.     So  off  with  yo' !" 


212  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

He  dismounted  and  seized  Mercer's  bridle. 

Mercer  was  on  his  feet  instantly.  Dalvecker  leaped  at 
him  with  that  furious  movement  which  makes  a  human 
being  so  terribly  like  a  wild  beast. 

This  was  one  of  the  occasions  when  the  preacher's  self- 
discipline  served  him  well.  He  only  defended  himself. 
Through  the  next  ten  minutes  he  did  not  make  an  aggres- 
sive motion. 

At  the  end  of  that  time  he  had  Dalvecker  by  the  throat, 
and  was  saying  to  him, 

"  Now  I'm  going  to  let  you  go.  And  you've  got  to  clear 
out  of  my  sight.  I  won't  fight  you.  Remember  that  I  mean 
I  won't  even  defend  myself  again.  If  you've  got  any  honor 
you  won't  try  to  strike.  You're  a  fool  to  fight.  I  know 
why  you've  done  it,  and  I  tell  you  you're  a  fool.  Every 
woman  does  as  she  pleases.  All  the  fighting  in  the  world 
can't  change  that.     Now  I'm  going  to  let  you  go." 

Dalvecker,  released,  staggered  back. 

He  glared  an  instant ;  then  he  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  away,  Mercer  standing  and  watching  him. 

The  next  week  it  was  rumored  on  the  mountain  that  Dal- 
vecker had  gone  down  into  South  Carolina.  Nobody  knew 
exactly  why  he  had  gone  nor  how  long  he  would  stay.  He 
had  left  his  mother  to  "  make  the  craps  "  as  she  could. 

Time  seemed  to  gallop  to  Temple  Crawford. 

In  the  first  month  of  the  fall  she  and  the  preacher  were 
married. 

They  remained  at  the  Crawford  home,  following  their 
joint  labor,  and  Miss  Drowdy  did  not  go  back  to  Hoyt  un- 
til the  next  spring. 

One  of  the  first  things  her  sister  said  to  Almina  on  her 
return  was  that  "it  was  just  like  Roger  Crawford  to  have 
got  Alminy  down  there,  and  then  have  things  turn  out  like 
that." 


XIII 
NOT    BUDDHISM 

"  They  say  the  dog  always  comes." 

"  Does  it  ?" 

"Yes;  and  he  sits  beside  her,  and  he  and  she  make  a 
lovely  group — so  they  say." 

"Do  they?" 

"Yes;  I  couldn't  help  hoping  that  he  was  an  animal  of 
a  phlegmatic  sort  of  temperament,  you  know,  so  that  he 
wouldn't  get  to  barking  and  howling  when  the  people  begin 
to  shout  and  pray." 

"  I  should  hope  so,  too." 

"  Altogether,  there's  something  quite  different  from  the 
common  about  these  evangelists.  I  meant  to  hear  them 
the  moment  they  came  to  Boston." 

"  Did  you  ?  But  they've  had  three  meetings  here  before 
this,  I  understand." 

"  I  know  it ,  but,  then,  I  was  waiting  for  you  to  come." 

As  she  said  this  the  girl  glanced  up  at  her  friend,  who 
was  a  young  man  with  a  small,  pointed  beard,  and  a  little 
mustache  curled  up  and  out  at  the  ends.  He  was  dressed 
with  extreme  care.  He  was  standing  at  the  end  of  a 
crowded  pew  in  a  church  in  Boston,  and  when  the  girl 
glanced  up  at  him  he  glanced  down  at  her  impressively. 
His  name  was  Yale  Boynton,  and  he  had  just  come  home 
from  a  university  abroad  where  he  had  been  supposed  to 
be  completing  some  kind  of  studies.  It  was  not  gener- 
ally known  exactly  to  what  kind  of  studies  Boynton  had 
been  giving  his  attention,  and  he  had  not  yet  been  able  to 
decide  what   profession  he  would  enter.     But  there  was 


214  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

always  time  enough,  he  thought,  for  a  man  under  thirty. 
He  did  not  wish  to  make  a  mistake,  and  his  inclinations 
towards  a  calling  were  so  different  at  different  times  that 
he  was  waiting,  as  he  said,  for  the  needle  to  stop  wavering 
and  settle  in  one  direction. 

Meantime,  before  he  had  gone  to  his  university,  where 
he  only  remained  a  year,  he  had  engaged  himself  to  a 
Boston  young  lady  of  good  family. 

He  had  come  home  the  day  before,  and  Miss  Wallis  had 
asked  him  to  take  her  to  this  meeting. 

Amy  Wallis  was  a  girl  with  a  thin,  spiritual  face  and 
ardent  eyes.  She  considered  Mr.  Boynton  to  be  in  pos- 
session of  more  talent  than  had  ever  before  belonged  to 
any  one  man.  There  were  times  when  Boynton  felt  that  he 
agreed  with  her  in  this  estimate.  Nevertheless,  Boynton's 
appreciation  of  himself  was  not  in  the  least  disagreeable, 
and  only  tended  to  give  him  an  ease  which  usually  insured 
to  him  the  use  of  all  his  powers,  for  nothing  was  lost 
through  diffidence. 

People  continued  to  pour  into  the  church.  The  seats 
were  now  all  taken,  and  the  new-comers  ranged  themselves, 
several  deep,  against  the  wall.  Men  began  to  bring  in 
camp  -  chairs  from  some  adjoining  room,  and  at  last  the 
folding-doors  of  this  room  were  thrown  open  and  the  crowd 
gradually  flowed  in  there,  keeping  itself  well  towards  the 
main  auditorium. 

Boynton  maintained  his  place  in  the  aisle  next  to  the 
wall,  and  close  to  Miss  Wallis.  They  were  not  many  yards 
from  the  pulpit,  where  the  leader^  were  to  place  themselves. 
There  was  a  table  and  several  chairs  on  this  platform, 
where  the  pulpit  was,  but  no  organ,  as  was  usually  the  case 
in  meetings  of  this  kind. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  could  come  with  me,"  now  said  Miss 
Wallis,  looking  up  at  her  escort,  "  because  I  want  to  know 
what  you  think  of  this  kind  of  thing.  Several  of  my 
friends  have  been,  and  they  say  it's  really  wonderful.  But 
I  want  to  know  what  you  think  " — here  their  eyes  met  for  an 


NOT   BUDDHISM  215 

instant,  and  the  speaker  blushed  slightly.  "There  really 
must  be  something  in  it,  you  know."  She  went  on,  "  And 
who  knows  but  that  it  may  be  religion.  Religion  is  so 
mysterious." 

"  It  may  be  great  personal  magnetism,"  remarked  Boyn- 
ton,  and  Miss  Wallis  had  a  feeling  that  her  betrothed  could 
even  explain  magnetism  if  he  cared  to  do  so. 

"  That's  what  I  told  Lily  Baintry,"  she  answered,  quick- 
ly—  "that  it  must  be  that.  But  to  have  such  a  power 
over  people,  here  in  Boston,  you  know  !  If  it  were  some- 
where in  the  South,  or  where  the  audience  was  more  emo- 
tional—" 

"  And  Boston  isn't  emotional,  then  ?"  interrupted  Boyn- 
ton,  with  another  smile. 

He  was  not  much  interested  in  these  evangelists,  but  he 
was  greatly  interested  to  be  anywhere  with  Miss  Wallis. 

"  Well,  you  know,  Boston,  I  suppose,  is  just  a  trifle  more 
given  to  analysis  and  questioning  than — than  some  other 
places,  don't  you  think  ?"  modestly 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  it  is.  Anyway,  it  wishes  the  world  to 
think  so,  which  amounts  to  much  the  same  thing,"  was  the 
reply. 

The  young  man  looked  at  his  watch.  "  How  the  crowd 
comes  in !  If  these  evangelists,  if  that's  what  they  call 
themselves,  only  charged  an  admission  fee,  they  would  be 
in  good  paying  business." 

"But  they  say,"  responded  Miss  Wallis,  eagerly,  "that 
they  never  take  a  penny  more  than  just  for  bare  expenses. 
They  have  enough  to  live  on,  and  they  refuse  to  be  paid. 
That  makes  me  respect  them.  The  Gospel  ought  to  be 
free.  I  never  believed  in  having  to  pay  money  for  your 
pew  in  church.  It  isn't  right.  Do  you  think  it's  right, 
Yale  ?" 

It  seemed  quite  necessary  for  Miss  Wallis  to  know  what 
Mr.  Boynton  thought  upon  all  subjects  that  came  up.  He 
gave  her  his  ideas  upon  this  topic  fervently  and  agreeably, 
thinking  all  the  time  that  the  man  must  be  an  idiot  who 


2i6  AGAINST   HUMAN    NATURE 

could  not  be  in  some  degree  eloquent  with  such  eyes  gaz- 
ing up  at  him. 

"  There's  another  queer  thing  about  these  people,"  Miss 
Wallis  said,  after  a  moment's  watching  of  the  men  and 
women  who  were  coming  in ;  "  they  don't  have  an  organ. 
The  woman  plays  a  violin  sometimes  when  she  sings." 

"  Does  she  ?" 

Some  slight  change  came  over  Boynton's  face,  but  Miss 
Wallis  was  looking  at  the  door  and  did  not  notice  it. 

"Just  think!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  little  laugh;  "a 
fiddle  and  a  dog  !     Isn't  it  odd  ?" 

"Very,"  said  Boynton.  "But  you  haven't  told  me  their 
name  yet." 

In  truth  he  had  not  been  sufficiently  interested  to  think 
whether  they  had  a  name  or  not. 

The  girl  did  not  answer  his  remark.     She  exclaimed, 

"  There  they  are  !     That  must  be  they  !" 

Boynton,  standing,  could  see  the  man  and  woman  very 
plainly  as  they  entered. 

"The  name  is  Mercer,"  he  said  to  himself.  And  he 
tried  not  to  let  his  face  show  the  startled  interest  that  was 
in  his  heart. 

He  had  been  called  away  from  Asheville  on  the  very 
day  following  that  last  visit  of  Temple's  to  his  boat ;  and 
his  life  had  been  full  of  other  thoughts  and  had  been 
passed  a  great  way  from  that  North  Carolina  city.  And 
nearly  three  years  had  passed  since  then. 

Mercer  came  in  first.  Although  Boynton  had  heard  of 
him  and  his  work  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  mountains 
near  Asheville,  he  had  never  seen  him  before,  and  he  was 
surprised  at  the  keenness  with  which  he  scanned  the  erect, 
agile  figure,  the  thin,  pale,  ascetic  face,  with  its  deep,  power- 
ful eyes.  He  was  conscious  of  a  slight  shrinking,  as  if  he 
dreaded  to  look  at  the  woman  following  Mercer.  But  he 
did  look,  and  he  was  surprised  that  he  should  still  be 
moved  in  any  degree  by  the  memory  of  that  foolish  time 
when  he  had  gone  almost  every  day  up  the  French  Broad 


NOT    BUDDHISM  217 

in  his  boat,  and  when  Temple  Crawford  had  joined  him. 
It  was  true  that  during  that  time  he  had  thought  of  nothing 
else.  But  life  had  opened  so  since !  So  many  other  things 
had  happened ! 

There  was  Temple  again.  She  did  not  look  any  older, 
Boynton  thought  at  first.  She  looked  just  the  same,  he  fan- 
cied, and  that  was,  as  it  had  always  been,  entirely  different 
from  any  one  else.  And  her  presence  was  never  like  the 
presence  of  any  one  else. 

Boynton  made  a  slight  movement  of  impatience  with  him- 
self. He  knew  that  Miss  Wallace  glanced  at  him,  but  he 
continued  to  look  at  Temple. 

She  carried  a  green  baize  bag  in  her  hand.  Behind  her 
walked  an  immense  white  Newfoundland  dog.  This  dog 
had  one  black  ear.  He  went  up  on  the  platform  with  Tem- 
ple, and  sat  down  so  close  to  her  that  he  leaned  against 
her. 

His  mistress  put  her  hand  on  the  dog's  head,  but  she  did 
not  appear  to  notice  him  as  she  did  so. 

Mercer  came  forward  immediately  to  the  pulpit.  He 
stood  an  instant  glancing  over  the  congregation.  Then  he 
said, 

"  Let  us  all  unite  for  a  moment  in  silent  prayer." 

Nearly  all  the  people  bowed  their  heads,  but  Boynton  did 
not.  He  continued  to  look  at  the  group  on  the  platform. 
He  thought  it  was  curious  that  the  sight  even  of  the  dog 
should  affect  him  perceptibly. 

While  the  people  were  apparently  praying,  and  he  was 
gazing  straight  in  front  of  him,  for  an  instant  he  ceased  to 
see  what  was  before  him,  but  only  saw  a  broad  river,  with 
mountain  peaks  in  every  direction ;  a  boat,  and  in  the  boat 
an  eager  youth,  with  expectant  eyes  fixed  on  the  rhododen- 
dron shrubs  through  which  a  girl  was  sure  to  come.  There 
even  flashed  through  his  mind  the  fact  that  on  that  last  day 
there  had  been  pates  and  lager. 

Yes,  it  was  the  same  woman  who  was  sitting  there  now, 
with  her  head  bent  to  her  hand.     But  Temple's  hair  was  no 


2i8  AGAINST   HUMAN    NATURE 

longer  short,  save  about  her  face,  where  it  was  thick  and 
fluffy,  as  it  had  been  ;  but  it  was  coiled  up  at  the  back,  and 
took  from  her  head  that  particularly  youthful  and  what 
Boynton  just  now  called  "the  North  Carolina  look." 

Even  this  self-satisfied  young  man  could  not  please  him- 
self by  thinking  that  Temple  had  ever  been  in  love  with  him  ; 
and  he  was  obliged  to  own  mentally  that  he  had  very  much 
wished  that  this  had  been  the  case. 

He  continued  staring  intently  at  the  top  of  her  head  as  it 
rested  on  her  hand.  He  remembered  the  prayer  she  had 
made  that  day  in  the  boat.  He  was  quite  sure  he  should 
always  remember  that  and  its  effect  upon  him. 

She  had  been  very  much  in  earnest  at  the  time.  And  she 
had  married  the  preacher ! 

Here  the  preacher  opened  his  eyes  and  raised  his  head. 
There  was  a  slight  rustle  of  expectation,  and  people  glanced 
at  each  other.  Mercer  read  in  a  very  quiet  way  the  whole 
of  the  "  Sermon  on  the  Mount."  But  though  he  was  quiet, 
he  was  impressive,  and  he  did  not  try  to  improve  what  he 
was  reading  by  any  comments  of  his  own. 

Amy  Wallis,  listening,  was  saying  to  herself  that,  beauti- 
ful as  she  had  thought  that  chapter  from  the  New  Testament 
to  be,  she  had  never  before  known  how  beautiful  it  was,  nor 
how  strongly  it  bore  upon  daily  life. 

Boynton  was  thinking,  "  He's  too  clever  to  try  the  shout- 
ing business  here,  I  imagine.  Boston  is  a  different  sort  of  a 
place." 

Meanwhile,  behind  the  speaker's  tall  figure  the  woman 
and  the  dog  sat  quietly,  both  of  them  looking  calmly  about 
over  the  people.  It  seemed  to  Boynton  now  that  Temple's 
face  appeared  to  be  somewhat  older,  because  it  was  so  calm. 
There  was  some  change  in  it,  he  thought,  as  he  contemplated 
it  uninterruptedly.  But  he  could  not  find  an  adjective  quite 
suitable  to  apply  to  that  change  even  in  his  own  mind. 

When  Mercer  had  finished  reading  he  asked  if  some 
brother  or  sister  would  start  a  hymn. 

In  the  slight  pause  that  followed  this  request  Miss  Wal- 


NOT   BUDDHISM 


219 


lis  turned  towards  Boynton,  and  he  bent  down  to  hear 
her  say, 

"  You  see  they  are  different,  don't  you  ?" 

The  young  man  nodded.  It  was  true  that,  though  the 
meeting  was  opened  precisely  as  others  would  have  opened 
it,  yet  these  people  "  were  different." 

Boynton  himself  suddenly  began  to  sing — 

"Come,  thou  fount  of  every  blessing," 

and  the  crowd  joined  in  lustily,  the  sound  rolling  out  at  the 
open  doors  and  seeming  almost  to  shake  the  walls. 

Mercer  stood  motionless  behind  the  pulpit.  He  did  not 
sing,  because  he  could  not.  And  Temple  was  not  yet  sing- 
ing either.  There  was  something  like  an  absent  expression 
on  her  face. 

When  the  first  verse  was  done  there  was  an  instant's  hes- 
itation. Boynton  could  not  think  of  the  lines  immediately 
following,  so  he  began  on  the  last  verse — 

"Oh,  to  grace  how  great  a  debtor." 

Temple  reached  down  and  took  her  violin  from  its  bag. 
She  laid  it  across  her  lap  without  trying  its  strings,  and  she 
did  not  touch  it  when  she  began  to  sing  at  the  line — 

"Prone  to  wander,  Lord,  I  feel  it." 

It  was  a  curious  thing  that  happened  then.  Almost  every 
one  else  stopped  singing  as  the  new  voice  commenced,  and 
its  volume  of  melody  filled  the  large  room — 

"  Prone  to  leave  the  God  I  love  ; 

Here's  my  heart,  oh,  take  and  seal  it  ; 

Seal  it  for  thy  courts  above." 

Temple  had  risen  immediately,  and  had  come  forward  to 
her  husband's  side.  She  had  clasped  her  hands  lightly  about 
the  instrument,  and  thus  held  it  to  her.     Her  voice,  as  has 


220  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

been  said,  was  a  contralto,  and  it  had  the  sympathetic  qual- 
ity so  largely  developed  that  it  was  as  if  she  sang  out  of  her 
very  heart — as  if,  indeed,  the  rich  blood  of  a  rich  nature 
were  flowing  through  her  tones  into  the  hearts  of  those  who 
heard  her.  Boynton  told  himself  that  it  was  a  kind  of  trans- 
fusion, not  of  blood,  but  of  spirit. 

Those  hearts  suddenly  leaped  with  an  emotion  that  took 
on  the  guise  of  religious  enthusiasm. 

Some  of  the  sensitive  spirits  present  were  fired  with  an 
intense  longing  for  a  kind  of  self-abnegation,  some  giving  up 
that  should  make  the  world  at  once  a  better  place. 

Amy  Wallis  interlaced  her  fingers  under  her  mantle  and 
pressed  them  tightly  together.  She  shivered  with  what  she 
called  a  "  justified  delight." 

She  had  heard  a  great  many  singers,  famous  singers,  who 
played  with  notes  and  tossed  them  about  as  a  juggler  tosses 
balls — the  old  trite  comparison  coming  directly  to  her  mind. 
She  was  amazed,  and  a  trifle  afraid  of  herself.  She  glanced 
up  at  Boynton,  but  again  he  did  not  notice  her,  for  he  was 
gazing  at  Temple,  who  had  laid  her  violin  on  a  chair  and 
who  now  said, 

"  I  am  going  to  pray." 

And  she  began  praying  ;  not  kneeling,  but  standing  there 
with  her  head  back,  her  magnetic  personality  already  begin- 
ning to  have  its  effect  upon  those  present. 

It  has  often,  and  truly,  been  said  that  women  are  too  per- 
sonal ;  that  they  are  not  likely  to  judge  broadly  or  to  work 
broadly. 

But  sometimes,  for  that  very  reason,  their  power  concen- 
trates and  moves  almost  miraculously.  That  arrow  which  is 
shot  only  at  the  horizon  often  hits  only  the  horizon,  as  it 
goes  over  the  heads  of  humanity. 

As  once  before,  Boynton  had  felt  that  Temple  was  praying 
for  him,  for  his  individual  soul,  so  now  he  felt  it  again  ;  and 
he  fought  against  the  effect  of  her  prayer.  He  did  not  believe 
in  the  slightest  in  *'  experiencing  religion." 

There  was  hardly  a  person  present  who  did  not  feel  in 


NOT    BUDDHISM  221 

varying  degree  that  the  woman  standing  there  was  praying 
for  him,  for  her. 

She  was  singularly  frank ;  she  alluded  to  weaknesses  and 
shortcomings,  to  hopes  and  fears,  and  to  all  with  the  confi- 
dence of  a  child  speaking  to  its  father,  who  will  presently 
greatly  comfort  it. 

Her  fervent  nature  vitalized  the  old  phrases  which  are 
but  husks  on  ordinary  lips. 

After  the  first  few  sentences  Amy  Wallis  leaned  her  head 
forward  on  the  seat  in  front  of  her.  Tears  gathered  in  her 
eyes  and  fell,  but  she  hardly  knew  it.  She  was  conscious  of 
a  deep  longing  to  be  a  better  woman  ;  to  live  higher;  to 
help  more ;  to  be  far,  far  truer  to  her  ideals. 

And  then  there  came  to  her  a  distinct  and  well-defined 
wish  to  be  nearer  that  woman  who  was  praying,  to  touch  her 
hand,  and  partake  of  her  strength  and  her  exaltation. 

Here  and  there  among  the  people  there  was  a  groan,  or  a 
sob,  or  a  swiftly  uttered  ejaculation  of  entreaty  or  gratitude. 

Even  to  Boynton,  who,  as  travelled  man  of  the  world, 
might  be  supposed  to  be  a  judge,  even  to  him  these  excla- 
mations did  not  seem  like  the  usual  exclamations  in  an  or- 
dinary revival  meeting.  He  decided  that  the  difference,  the 
vast  difference,  was  caused  by  the  fact  that  the  two  leaders 
brought  not  only  extraordinary  power,  but  absolute  sincerity, 
to  their  work.  This  impress  of  sincerity  made  itself  felt 
from  the  first,  and  made  any  thought  of  charlatanry  impos- 
sible. 

Temple  did  not  pray  lengthily.  When  she  ceased,  Boyn- 
ton noted  how  pale  she  had  grown  during  her  pleading,  how 
spent  she  seemed.  At  least  he  thought  he  noticed  this,  but 
to  others  she  was  only  white,  and  perhaps  a  little  fatigued. 

When  she  sat  down,  a  woman's  voice  immediately  began 
to  sing  "Jerusalem  the  Golden,"  and  the  great  concourse 
joined  her.  But  Temple  did  not  sing.  She  was  leaning 
back  in  her  chair,  and  the  white  dog  was  couched  at  her 
feet. 

If  any  one  had  thought  it  an  affectation,  which  might  help 


222  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

to  notoriety,  that  the  dog  was  permitted  to  be  present,  there 
was  probably  no  one  now  who  thought  so.  It  was  thor- 
oughly evident  that  there  was  no  affectation  in  this  man  and 
woman. 

Mercer  presently  began  to  speak.  His  sentences  were 
terse  and  forcible,  sometimes  cutting,  but  generally  the  en- 
treating note  prevailed. 

He  said  that  it  was  the  fashion  in  these  days  to  call  relig- 
ion a  mere  matter  of  emotion  —  something  for  the  weak- 
minded  man  and  the  hysterical  woman. 

Yes,  it  was  for  them;  for  the  weak  and  the  unfortunate  of 
every  kind,  and  for  the  innocent  and  the  guilty.  And  it 
was  a  thing  for  the  emotions  and  for  the  reason  ;  it  was 
something  that  fed  and  sustained  the  natural  and  innocent 
in  everybody  ;  but  it  did  more :  it  opened  to  us  a  life  for 
which  every  one  longed,  to  which  every  one  looked  forward. 
It  stimulated,  it  urged,  it  soothed,  it  satisfied.  That  man 
was  a  fool  who  called  religion  mere  emotion.    Mere  emotion  ! 

Mercer  stood  perfectly  still,  save  that  occasionally  he  lift- 
ed his  left  hand  and  flung  it  out  with  a  restrained,  forcible 
gesture.  His  face  showed  more  and  more,  as  he  went  on, 
the  fire  and  force  of  the  spirit  within  him. 

"And  yet,"  he  said,  "it  is  emotion  that  rules  the  world. 
It  is  love  that  is  conqueror.  Because  I  love  you  I  seek  to 
do  you  a  service,  and  my  love  makes  that  service  a  delight 
to  me ;  and  your  love,  if  you  have  it,  makes  that  same  ren- 
dered service  a  happiness  to  you  too.  Not  that  emotion 
which  spends  itself  in  sighs  and  tears  and  longing,  but  that 
which  incites  to  good  deeds — the  fire  which  warms  the  world, 
which  starts  the  machinery  of  life  and  keeps  it  going. 

"  Do  you  scoff  at  emotion  ?  It  is  life,  warmth — the  lack 
of  it  is  death.  Life  should  be  feeling  and  reason — the  flame 
of  being  and  the  hand  that  guides  the  flame." 

Mercer  spoke  a  few  moments  in  this  strain ;  then  he  asked 
his  hearers  to  see  to  it  that  they  had  the  religion  that  should 
shape  their  lives  for  them,  the  fire  that  should  melt  and 
mould  their  hearts. 


NOT    BUDDHISM  223 

And  here  he  became  inexpressibly  touching  as  he  appealed 
to  the  people  before  him. 

But  when  Boynton  tried  to  analyze  afterwards,  and  to  find 
out  why  the  man  had  such  power,  he  could  make  no  prog- 
ress at  all.  He  only  knew  that  he  did  have  it.  He  only 
knew  that  he  made  him  long  for  that  new  life — long  for  it, 
and  almost  resolve  to  have  it  in  some  way. 

Once  the  speaker  stretched  out  his  hands  as  he  ex- 
claimed, 

"The  new  life !  The  new  life  for  us  who  believe  in  God 
and  Christ  and  in  ourselves  !  Will  you  not  have  it  ?  Will 
you  not  ?" 

He  bent  over  the  table  and  repeated  the  words,  "Will  you 
not  ?"  in  a  cadence  so  beseeching  that  a  thrill  went  through 
the  audience. 

Instantly  a  man  arose  and  began  tremulously  to  tell  how 
he  was  trying  to  break  away  from  the  love  of  drink ;  how  it 
seemed  to  him  now  that  he  should  conquer ;  he  had  never 
felt  this  assurance  so  strongly  before ;  he  asked  his  friends 
to  pray  for  him. 

As  he  sat  down  some  one  began  to  pray.  When  that 
prayer  ceased  the  fine,  long  drawn  notes  of  a  violin  sounded 
in  the  stillness. 

Boynton's  pulses  were  hurrying  with  excited  interest,  even 
though  he  was  telling  himself,  with  an  attempt  at  scorn, 
that  these  people  were  using  the  same  old  revival  methods 
really ;  that  the  only  difference  was  that  they  could  manage 
these  methods  more  skilfully.  Would  they  ask  those  who 
wanted  to  be  better,  who  wanted  to  love  Christ,  to  come  for- 
ward or  rise }  He  had  not  known  he  was  so  weak  as  to  be 
moved  in  this  way.  Was  it  merely  because  it  was  Temple 
Crawford  there  behind  the  pulpit  ?  But  others  were  moved 
also  ;  were  they  all  weak-minded — all  mistaken  ? 

A  jumble  of  questions  was  in  Boynton's  mind,  and  a  rising 
emotion  was  beginning  to  rule  him. 

The  violin  prelude  was  ended,  and  Temple  began  to  sing 
with  her  instrument — 


224  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  We  may  not  climb  the  heavenly  steeps 
To  bring  the  Lord  Christ  down  ; 
In  vain  we  search  the  lowest  deeps, 
For  Him  no  depths  can  drown. 

"  But  warm,  sweet,  tender,  even  yet 
A  present  help  is  He : 
And  faith  has  yet  its  Olivet, 
And  love  its  Galilee." 

The  singer  and  the  instrument  paused  an  instant  here. 
Then  Temple,  who  had  been  sitting,  rose  with  her  violin  un- 
der her  chin,  ^nd  moved  forward  to  the  front  of  the  platform. 
She  did  not  seem  to  see  the  eager  faces  turned  towards  her. 
She  drew  her  bow  over  the  quivering  strings  and  sang  again 
the  words — 

"  And  faith  has  yet  its  Olivet, 
And  love  its  Galilee." 

And  as  she  sang  her  voice  laid  hold  on  the  hearts  of  her 
hearers  and  wrung  them  with  an  ecstatic  longing. 

She  went  on,  with  head  uplifted   and  impassioned  eyes 
that  saw — ah,  what  did  they  see  ? — 

"  The  healing  of  the  seamless  dress 
Is  by  our  beds  of  pain  ; 
We  touch  Him  in  life's  throng  and  press. 
And  we  are  whole  aa:ain. 


*t5^ 


"  Oh,  Lord  and  Master  of  us  all, 
Whate'er  our  name  or  sign. 
We  own  Thy  sway,  we  hear  Thy  call. 
We  test  our  lives  by  Thine  !" 

The  tones  rose  firm  and  strong,  and  it  was  as  if  there 
were  a  palpitation  in  them,  as  of  a  heart  beating  through  the 
simplicity  of  the  tune,  beating  in  strenuous  sympathy  with 
other  hearts. 

Amy  Wallis  hardly  knew  whether  any  one  else  spoke  or 
prayed  after  that.     She  was  not  even  so  vividly  conscious 


NOT    BUDDHISM  225 

that  Boynton  was  standing  close  by  her.  But  she  did  hear 
Mercer  say  after  a  little  that  he  would  like  to  have  those 
who  were  interested,  and  who  would  like  to  talk  with  him, 
remain  after  the  benediction. 

Boynton  stood  back  against  the  wall  while  the  people 
crowded  by  him.  So  many,  apparently,  were  going  to  wait 
that  the  audience  seemed  not  to  be  dismissed. 

At  last  the  young  man  was  able  to  reach  Miss  Wallis 
again.  She  was  standing  with  her  hands  resting  on  the 
back  of  the  seat  in  front  of  her.  She  was  looking  at  the 
platform  to  which  men  and  women  were  pressing. 

"I  must  see  her,"  she  whispered  ;  "I  must  speak  to  her. 
I  want  to  touch  her  hand." 

Boynton's  face  showed  a  slight  annoyance.  He  wished 
now  that  he  had  mentioned,  the  moment  the  Mercers  ar- 
rived, that  he  had  known  Mrs.  Mercer  before  she  married. 
But  he  had  reasoned  that  Miss  Wallis  would  never  know  her, 
and  there  was  no  need  to  give  the  information.  And  he 
himself  shrank  from  meeting  her ;  he  could  hardly  tell  why 
he  felt  so  strongly  that  he  would  better  not  meet  her.  And 
here  was  Amy  taking  this  notion  that  she  must  speak  to 
Temple. 

"  You  mean  Mrs.  Mercer  ?"  he  asked,  quite  coolly. 

"Of  course  ;  there  is  no  one  else,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Very  well.  I'll  sit  here  and  wait.  It  may  require  time 
to  effect  a  meeting,  as  so  many  seem  to  be  of  your  mind. 
What  are  you  going  to  say  to  her.?" 

Boynton  was  not  aware  how  sarcastic  an  intonation  was 
in  his  voice  until  Miss  Wallis  gave  him  an  imploring  look. 

"  I  know  you  think  I'm  weak,"  she  said,  "but  I  can't  help 
it.  And  perhaps  I'm  not  weak,"  courageously,  "  and  the 
Mercers  may  be  right  and  we  may  be  wrong.     What  then  ?" 

Boynton  smiled  indulgently  and  admiringly  as  he  an- 
swered, 

"Oh,  I'll  risk  your  going  far  wrong.  Amy.  Go  ahead  and 
shake  hands  with  Mrs.  Mercer." 

At  this  point  Boynton  suddenly  decided  that  it  might  pre- 

15 


226  AGAINST   HUMAN    NATURE 

vent  Still  greater  embarrassment  in  the  future  if  he  added, 
"  But  this  wonderful  woman  is  not  an  entire  stranger  to  me, 
Amy." 

The  girl  turned  quickly  towards  him. 

"What!"  she  exclaimed,  "you  know  her.?  It's  odd  you 
didn't  mention  it  directly." 

Then  she  was  sorry  she  had  spoken  the  last  sentence. 

"We  haven't  had  much  opportunity  for  conversation  this 
evening,"  he  answered,  easily.  "  I  used  to  meet  her  when  I 
was  in  Asheville,  two  or  three  years  ago." 

With  a  show  of  unbiassed  judgment  he  continued :  "  She 
struck  me  at  the  time  as  being  in  some  way  different  from 
the  ordinary  girl.  I  thought  she  might  develop  into  some- 
thing. But  she  seemed  more  like  a  child  then.  She  rode 
about  in  an  old  velvet  coat  of  her  father's,  and  she  had  this 
same  dog.  She  was  excessively,  unnaturally  fond  of  her 
dog  and  her  pony.  I  wonder  if  she  takes  her  pony  about 
with  her  as  well  as  her  dog." 

The  young  man  spoke  with  a  great  appearance  of  frank- 
ness. His  companion  had  withdrawn  her  eyes  from  him, 
and  she  kept  them  withdrawn,  as  she  said, 

"Perhaps  you  will  go  up  and  renew  your  acquaintance?" 

"  Not  now,  at  any  rate.  It  would  strike  a  wrong  note ; 
and  she  might  not  remember ;  and  I  hate  to  explain  in  that 
way." 

"  I  think  she  would  remember  you,"  said  Miss  Wallis, 
quietly.  She  was  thinking  that  the  wrong  note  had  already 
been  struck.  Then  she  quickly  put  away  from  her  any  un- 
pleasant feeling.  What  if  Yale  had  known  that  woman.? 
He  had  not  then  known  her.  Amy  Wallis  ;  and  she  was  quite 
ridiculous,  anyway. 

By  the  time  she  had  taken  her  place  in  the  press  beside 
the  leaders,  Miss  Wallis  had  stopped  thinking  of  what  her 
lover  had  just  said.  She  was  really  a  fair-minded  girl,  and 
she  knew  when  she  was  unjust. 

She  waited  patiently,  watching  Mrs.  Mercer  when  she 
could  see  her,  as  that  lady  shook  hands  with  the  different 


NOT    BUDDHISM  227 

people  and  listened  to  what  they  said.  It  did  not  seem  to 
Miss  Wallis  that  Mrs.  Mercer  said  very  much,  but  there  was 
so  much  feeling  in  her  face,  so  much  warmth  in  her  smiles, 
such  a  sincerity  of  well-wishing  in  her  whole  aspect,  that  no 
one  came  near  her  without  being  comforted  in  some  degree. 
There  were  incalculable  sweetness  and  strength  in  herself; 
and  she  gave  of  herself,  gave  unstintedly. 

At  last  Amy  drew  near. 

"  I  wanted  to  shake  hands  with  you,"  she  said  ;  "  I  want- 
ed— "  Here  the  hands  of  the  two  women  met,  and  Miss 
Wallis  held  the  hand  closely,  with  that  touch  which  partakes 
of  the  nature  of  a  caress. 

Temple  looked  into  the  girl's  eyes.  What  is  that  myste- 
rious something  which  sometimes  streams  from  one  pair  of 
eyes  to  another,  and  which  at  once  and  authoritatively  de- 
clares kinship  ? 

A  different  and  more  personal  smile  came  to  Temple's 
face. 

"What  is  it  you  wanted  .''"  she  asked.  "Can  I  help  you? 
I  have  been  helped  so  much,  and  that  makes  me  wish  to  help 
others.     But  you  look  happy." 

"Yes,  I  am  happy,"  was  the  reply.  "Still  I  want  to  see 
you  to  tell  you  everything,  and  to  have  you  tell  me  about  re- 
ligion. Religion  is  a  kind  of  rite,  isn't  it?  Will  you  let  me 
see  you  ?     Have  you  time  ?     May  I  come  ?" 

Miss  Wallis  had  not  known  in  the  least  that  she  was  go- 
ing to  ask  this,  but,  as  she  told  Boynton  later,  the  moment 
she  was  near  Mrs.  Mercer  she  had  to  ask  if  she  might  visit 
her. 

"Yes,  come,"  was  the  answer.  "We  are  at  No.  —  Ash- 
burton  Place.      Come  between  two  and  six  in  the  after- 


noon." 


People  were  waiting ;  Miss  Wallis  could  not  linger.  An- 
other hand  was  extended,  and  Mrs.  Mercer  grasped  it,  nod- 
ding and  smiling  good-bye  to  Amy,  who  turned  away  and 
rejoined  Boynton. 

The  two  walked  out  into  the  street.    The  young  man  gave 


228  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

himself  a  slight  shake,  as  if  to  dispel  the  influence  of  the 
last  hour. 

"  There's  something  theatrical  about  it  all,"  he  said. 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  was  the  positive  response.  "  This  was 
genuine  !" 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  said  dramatic,"  he  amended. 

"  Perhaps  you  ought,"  said  Miss  Wallis  ;  "but  I  shouldn't 
choose  that  term,  even.    It  was  moving,  stirring,  awakening." 

"  But  what  does  it  all  amount  to?  The  age  of  revivals,  so 
called,  is  rather  gone  by.  Reasoning  beings  don't  look  to 
such  means  now.  We  are  theosophists  and  Buddhists  and 
Pagans  and  scientists  nowadays.  We  know  what  nerves  in 
the  body  are  set  vibrating  by  this  influence  and  that  influ- 
ence, and  we  have  ceased  to  ascribe  anything  to  the  spirit 
of  God  working  in  our  souls." 

"  Why  not  say  that  we  don't  even  know  if  we  have  souls  ?" 
said  Amy. 

"  Precisely.  But  we  know  we  have  nerves  in  our  bodies 
and  gray  matter  in  our  skulls ;  we  know  this  because  the 
wise  men  have  dissected  a  lot  of  us  and  proved  thus  much." 

"  How  grateful  we  ought  to  be  to  the  wise  men  !"  ex- 
claimed Amy. 

She  began  to  walk  still  faster.  She  would  not  own  to 
herself  that  her  lover  jarred  upon  her  mood.  It  was  her 
theory  that  the  man  whom  you  love  and  whom  you  intend 
to  marry  should  never  be  capable  of  jarring  upon  your  mood. 
Not  that  she  blamed  him.  Of  course,  it  was  her  own  fault 
— she  should  not  be  in  such  a  frame  of  mind. 

Boynton  glanced  down  at  her.  They  had  now  turned  into 
one  of  the  walks  on  the  Common,  and  the  young  man  wished 
that  they  need  not  hurry  so. 

"You  don't  really  wish  to  run,  do  you?"  he  asked;  "be- 
cause if  you  do,  I'll  try  and  keep  along  with  you." 

She  laughed,  and  slackened  her  pace. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  she  remarked.  And  after  that  she  did 
not  speak  for  a  long  time,  and  apparently  kept  up  her 
thinkins:. 


NOT    BUDDHISM  229 

Suddenly  she  exclaimed, 

"  There  must  be  something  in  it !  And  why  isn't  it  just 
as  likely  as  that  all  this  kind  of  talk  that  does  not  comfort, 
and  that  leads  nowhere,  should  have  something  in  it  ?  You 
see,  you  can't  prove  anything." 

"Exactly,"  responded  Boynton,  "so  we.  can  take  our 
choice  ;  only  we  must  take  what  seems  most  reasonable  to 
us." 

"  I  find  I  care  less  and  less  about  Buddha,  and  reincarna- 
tion, and  such  things,"  said  Miss  Wallis,  who  was  now  walk- 
ing slowly.  "  These  people  must  be  nearer  right  than  any  one 
else.  To  love,  to  serve  ;  to  serve,  because  one  loves.  That's 
the  whole,  isn't  it  ?  Oh,"  with  a  sudden  access  of  fervor, 
"  I  should  think  that  man  and  woman  might  be  the  means 
of  converting  people  !  They  made  me  feel  about  what  we 
call  revivals  as  I  never  felt  before." 

"  That's  just  it,"  said  Boynton,  with  the  comfortable  supe- 
riority of  a  young  man  who  has  passed  a  year  in  a  German 
university,  and  who  is  not  yet  old  enough  to  know  how  much 
he  does  not  know,  "that's  just  it:  they  make  you  feel.  It 
isn't  feeling  we  want.  We  are  emotional  enough  already. 
It's  science,  logic,  that  we  need." 

The  girl  did  not  answer.  Again  she  felt  that  Yale  ought 
to  have  been  affected  differently  by  that  man  and  woman 
whom  they  had  just  heard.  He  might  differ  from  them,  of 
course,  but  there  must  be  a  lack  in  any  one  who  did  not  per- 
ceive that  there  was  something  true  in  what  had  just  been 
said  of  the  grand  secret  of  life  and  work. 

"  Are  you  really  going  to  call  on  these  Mercers?" 

Boynton  put  this  question  after  rather  a  prolonged  silence. 

"  Certainly.     Why,  I  just  told  you  so,"  smiling  at  him. 

"  I  know  it ;  but  I  didn't  know  but  that  it  was  only  an  im- 
pulse that  would  pass  off  directly.  I  wonder  if  you'll  take 
them  up." 

"  I  don't  imagine  they  would  let  themselves  be  taken  up 
by  me ;  and  I  shouldn't  think  of  trying  to  do  such  a  thing." 

Miss  Wallis  spoke  gravely. 


230  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Boynton  made  an  effort,  and  said  that  he  had  been  an 
exile  for  so  long  that  he  was  afraid  he  was  selfish,  and  he  did 
not  like  to  think  that  Amy  could  be  occupied  with  anything 
but  his  own  worthless  self.     Could  she  pardon  him  ? 

Then  their  eyes  met  for  an  instant,  and  the  shadow  be- 
tween them  departed  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come. 

Nevertheless,  on  his  way  to  his  hotel,  a  couple  of  hours 
later,  Boynton  began  again  to  think  about  the  Mercers.  But 
he  did  not  think  so  much  of  Amy's  contemplated  visit  as  of 
the  way  Temple  had  looked  and  sung  and  prayed. 

"  I  wonder  if  she  has  been  at  this  kind  of  thing  ever  since 
she  married,"  he  said,  aloud,  as  he  sat  smoking  in  his  room. 
"  And  I  wonder — " 

Here  he  paused.  Then  he  flicked  the  ashes  from  his 
cigar  and  laughed. 

He  was  thinking  of  that  time  when  he  had  taught  a  girl 
how  to  play  "  The  Kerry  Dance"  on  the  violin.  And  some- 
how the  glamour  of  that  time  and  that  presence  and  the 
mountains  and  the  river — all  was  so  sweet  in  his  memory  that 
it  seemed  quite  necessary,  under  the  circumstances,  to  stop 
remembering. 


XIV 

BREAKING     DOWN 

Miss  Wallis  went  the  very  next  day  to  Ashburton  Place. 
She  was  shown  into  a  room  where  were  three  or  four  women 
besides  their  hostess.  But  as  all  these  women  save  one 
were  standing,  it  seemed  as  if  they  were  going. 

Mrs.  Mercer  was  not  talking  with  them ;  she  was  listen- 
ing.    She  smiled  at  Amy  as  she  entered. 

Amy  was  telling  herself  that  she  ought  to  have  thought 
that  it  was  likely  there  would  be  others  here,  but  the  truth 
was  she  was  unreasonably  disappointed  in  not  finding  Mrs. 
Mercer  alone. 

She  wondered  afterwards  if  she  showed  this  disappoint- 
ment very  plainly,  for  the  lady  sitting  in  a  lounging  attitude 
on  a  couch  rose  when  the  others  had  gone,  and  drew  her 
wrap  about  her. 

"Are  you  going?"  asked  Temple. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  suppose  you  have 
another  meeting  to-night.  I  hope  you'll  take  your  malt,  and 
not  forget  the  extract  of  beef;  and  between  whiles  I  wish 
you'd  drink  a  raw  egg  or  two.  If  you  won't  rest,  you  must 
crowd  down  the  nourishment.  The  whole  thing  is  outra- 
geous, and  I  don't  care  who  knows  it." 

Here  the  speaker  laughed  slightly  and  glanced  at  Miss 
Wallis,  who  had  taken  the  chair  Temple  had  moved  towards 
her. 

"Why,  it's  Miss  Wallis!"  exclaimed  the  woman.  She 
advanced  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Don't  you  remember  Mrs.  Ammidown  ?" 

The  two  greeted  each  other  cordially. 


232  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  I  thought  there  was  something  familiar  about  you,"  re- 
sponded Amy,  "  but  you  were  before  the  window  and  I 
couldn't  see." 

"  Since  you  know  my  caller,  introduce  us,  Laura,"  said 
Temple. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  complied,  and  the  three  chatted  a  mo- 
ment. Every  time  Temple  spoke  Miss  Wallis  was  conscious 
of  a  desire  to  turn  and  look  at  her,  not  with  the  superficial 
attention  one  often  gives,  but  with  a  feeling  very  different. 

Temple's  voice  was  of  that  kind  which  penetrates  and 
stirs,  even  when  speaking  commonplaces.  But  Miss  Wal- 
lis, though  she  tried  to  describe  it  afterwards,  could  find  no 
word  for  its  peculiar  timbre.  She  felt  an  excitement  from 
merely  listening  to  it — an  excitement  and  an  attraction  which 
were  made  stronger  by  the  fact  that  Temple's  eyes  had  the 
same  power  as  her  voice. 

It  was  the  indefinable  something  with  which  some  people 
are  born,  which  cannot  by  any  possibility  be  acquired. 
Sometimes  the  term  "  magnetism  of  presence  "  is  applied, 
and  then  the  user  of  that  term  may  think  he  has  defined  the 
thing.     But  the  thing  remains  just  as  mysterious  as  ever. 

Temple  undoubtedly  did  possess  personal  magnetism, 
but  added  to  that  was  an  inextinguishable  good -will  and 
well-wishing  and  sympathy  which  it  was  impossible  for  the 
most  stupid  not  to  feel,  though  they  might  not  be  able  to 
analyze  it. 

But  she  looked  worn  and  thin,  and  older  now  in  this 
room  than  Miss  Wallis  had  thought  her  to  be  the  night  be- 
fore. 

Under  the  beautiful  golden-black  eyes  were  purple  marks, 
but  the  eyes,  as  well  as  the  lips,  smiled  cordially  at  Amy 
when  the  two  sat  down  by  themselves  after  Mrs.  Ammi- 
down had  gone. 

"  Now  I  have  come  I  feel  wicked,"  began  Miss  Wallis 
directly.  "  You  are  tired ;  you  are  seeing  people  all  the 
time.     I  ought  to  have  spared  you." 

"  Then  I  should  have  missed  a  pleasure,"  said  Temple. 


BREAKING    DOWN 


233 


It  was  what  a  conventional  society  woman  might  have 
said,  but  the  tone  made  it  genuine.  Miss  Wallis  could 
not  imagine  the  woman  before  her  as  saying  anything  she 
did  not  mean.  She  said  kind  things  j  therefore,  she  must 
feel  kindly. 

"  I  was  so  interested  last  night,"  began  Amy.  "  I  wanted 
to  ask  you  if  your  religion  always  satisfies,  if  it  really  fills 
your  heart,  if — oh,  Mrs.  Mercer,  don't  you  know  that,  even 
in  your  very  happiest  moment,  there  is  something? — I  mean, 
isn't  there  ?" 

Mrs.  jMercer  did  not  reply  immediately.  She  sat  with  her 
hands  loosely  clasped  in  her  lap,  her  eyes  lowered.  The 
girl,  looking  at  her,  could  not  but  notice  what  she  mentally 
called  a  "  disciplined  appearance  "  of  the  whole  face.  And 
she  noticed,  too,  how  thick  the  light-hued  eyelashes  were, 
how  strongly  marked  and  heavy  the  brows,  of  a  color  not 
much  darker  than  the  abundant,  pale  hair.  Miss  Wallis 
could  not  compare  this  woman  with  the  mountain  girl  of 
three  years  before ;  if  she  could  have  done  so  she  would 
have  been  startled  at  the  change.  And  yet  the  mountain 
girl  was  there,  and  something  more :  a  rich-natured  woman, 
holding  in  herself  seemingly  inexhaustible  emotional  powers. 
But  the  girl  had  possessed  all  that.  What  was  it,  then,  that 
the  years  had  brought  ? 

Miss  Wallis  leaned  nearer. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Mercer,"  she  said,  "you  don't  think  me  im- 
pertinent, do  you  ?" 

Temple  raised  her  eyes. 

"Impertinent?"  she  exclaimed.  "Why  should  I  think 
so  ?  Are  you  not  asking  the  same  question  that  every  heart 
is  continually  asking  of  itself,  of  the  world,  and  of  God  ?" 

"  Then  you  are  like  me,  like  the  rest  of  us,"  returned 
Miss  Wallis.  "  You  have  not  found  that  something  which 
satisfies  longing?" 

"  No,"  said  Temple,  "  I  have  not  found  it." 

She  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  she  fixed  her  eyes  on  her 
companion,  who  returned  the  intent  glance. 


234  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"We  seem  each  to  be  made  of  two  creatures,"  went  on 
Temple,  as  if  she  were  talking  to  herself,  "  of  something 
finite  and  something  infinite.  There  are  moments  when  the 
finite  in  us  may  be  fed  until  it  is  satisfied,  and  no  longer 
cries  out.  But  the  infinite  is  always  hungry  —  always  asking 
and  yearning  and  longing." 

Temple  had  put  the  palms  of  her  hands  together  in  her 
old  way  as  she  bent  forward. 

Miss  Wallis  was  thinking  that  had  Mrs.  Mercer  not 
been  absolutely  sincere,  she  would  not,  revivalist  as  she 
was,  have  replied  exactly  in  this  way. 

Amy  hesitated  a  moment  before  she  said, 

"I  thought  that  Mr.  Mercer  told  us  that  the  religion  he 
preached  does  satisfy  i*" 

"  Yes,  he  believes  that.  He  believes  that  it  is  possible 
for  one  to  be  so  filled  with  the  very  spirit  of  God  that  all 
this  undefinable  yearning  is  satisfied — at  least,  it  is  no  longer 
a  pain." 

The  two  women  sat  near  each  other  in  silence  for  a  few 
moments. 

Mrs.  Mercer  leaned  back  in  her  chair.  Miss  Wallis 
noted  how  thin  and  veined  the  temples  were,  how  far  too 
delicate  the  contour  of  the  whole  face. 

"  You  are  wearing  yourself  out,"  she  suddenly  said ;  "  it 
isn't  right.  If  I  had  any  authority,  I  should  forbid  you  to 
work  in  this  way." 

Temple  roused  herself  and  smiled. 

"  Work  is  the  best  thing  in  the  world,"  she  said,  with 
marked  emphasis.  She  went  on  quickly,  "  I  don't  want 
you  to  think  that  I  am  not  sincere  in  my  belief  in  our  relig- 
ion. I  am.  I  do  not  tell  people  it  satisfies  and  always 
makes  happy.  Do  you  think  it  is  happiness  that  should  be 
our  goal  ?  It  is  to  do  right,  to  be  in  the  right  path,  that  I 
urge  upon  people  when  I  do  speak." 

"  I  believe  that  we  have  a  right  to  demand  happiness,  our 
share  of  it,  in  this  world,"  returned  Miss  Wallis,  with  con- 
viction.    "It  is  part  of  our  heritage  as  human  beings.     We 


BREAKING    DOWN  235 

are  capable  of  it,  we  long  for  it — yes,  it  is  our  heritage,  and 
we  are  defrauded  when  we  do  not  get  it." 

The  girl's  face  flushed  as  she  spoke. 

"  And  yet  you  acknowledge  that  there  is  always  the  some- 
thing lacking  ?"  said  Temple. 

"Yes,"  trying  to  speak  more  lightly,  "but  I  am  heir  to 
happiness  all  the  same ;  still  I  may  never  come  into  my 
inheritance." 

Temple's  eyes  seemed  to  be  fixed  on  something  invisible. 

"  Sometimes,"  she  said  at  last,  "  I  used  to  think  I  was 
perfectly  happy,  down  there  among  the  mountains,  living 
among  them ;  knowing  when  I  went  to  bed  at  night  that 
they  would  be  there  when  I  waked — always  there.  But  I 
know,  too,  that  there  was  always  at  the  very  bottom  of  my 
heart  a  dull  ache,  because  I  could  not  really  take  in  all  that 
beauty.  I  was  suffering  because  of  my  limitations.  I  used 
to  long  to  be  able,  just  for  one  moment,  to  absorb  that 
grand  loveliness  so  that  I  should  be  saturated  with  it,  and 
not  feel  somewhere  in  me  that  something,  after  all,  escaped 
me.  I  desired  that  nothing  beautiful  should  escape  me. 
I  suppose  that  is  the  way  with  our  human  nature.  And 
as  for  happiness — I've  thought  and  thought  about  it,  until 
at  last  I  have  almost  decided  that  it  is  a  mere  matter  of 
temperament,  of  health.  It  may  not  be  within  our  grasp. 
But  to  be  right  on  all  important  occasions — that  comes  with 
being  right  each  day,  upon  having  the  true  attitude  of  mind, 
upon  not  struggling.  Don't  you  think  we  often  help  one 
another  when  we  confess  our  own  aims  and  shortcomings  ?" 

Here  Temple's  eyes  dwelt  on  the  girl's  face  in  interro- 
gation. 

Miss  Wallis  made  a  gesture  of  assent.  For  some  reason 
she  found  it  impossible  to  speak  at  that  moment. 

"  As  for  me,"  went  on  Temple,  in  the  same  quiet,  thrilling 
voice,  "  I  find  myself  so  often  struggling  not  to  struggle. 
We  don't  give  up  enough.  I  want  to  yield — yield.  Some 
people  think  that  the  having  religion  means  that  you  are 
constantly  resigned,  even  if  you  are  not  all  the  time  happy. 


236  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

It  doesn't  seem  so  to  me.     But  I  have  seasons  when  I  do 
stop  trying  to  yield,  and  do  really  lean  upon  God." 

Miss  Wallis  could  not  help  thinking  that  it  was  Mrs. 
Mercer,  more  than  herself,  who  was  in  a  manner  making 
confession.  Perhaps  the  same  idea  came  into  Temple's 
mind,  for  she  ceased  speaking,  smiled,  and  put  her  head 
back  again  upon  her  chair,  showing,  in  spite  of  herself,  un- 
mistakable signs  of  great  weariness. 

Miss  Wallis  knew  that  she  ought  to  go  directly,  but  she 
did  not  go.     Instead,  she  exclaimed, 

"  You  are  too  generous  !" 

Temple  raised  her  eyebrows  in  surprise  and  incredulity. 

"Yes,"  went  on  the  girl,  hurriedly;  "don't  you  think  I 
can  see  how  you  give  of  yourself  to  all  these  people  who 
ask  of  you  ?  Oh,  I  know  very  well  that  I  am  one  of  them. 
But  I'm  going  in  a  moment.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are 
an  old  friend.  So  let  me  tell  you  that  you  must  stop  giving 
us  sympathy.  You  ought  to  know  that  the  wise  and  selfish 
people  have  decided  that  we  must  no  longer  sympathize 
wdth  others.  It's  only  '  going  into  the  bog  with  them  ;'  it 
hurts  us,  and  does  them  no  good.  I'm  sure  I  can't  tell 
what  there  is  about  you — you  are  one  of  those  people  who 
have  healing  in  their  very  presence.  Something  lovely  and 
strong  emanates  from  you ;  I  feel  it  as  I  sit  here.  And  I 
can  feel  my  conscience  smiting  me,  too,  for  sitting  here." 

Miss  Wallis  rose,  and  her  hostess  rose  also,  making 
some  deprecatory  explanation. 

There  was  a  scratching  at  the  door,  and,  as  Temple  went 
to  open  it,  she  said, 

"  Stay  one  moment,  and  let  me  present  a  friend  of  mine 
to  you." 

She  swung  the  door  back,  and  Yucatan  walked  in  and  up 
to  Amy,  snuffed  at  her  skirts  with  great  gravity,  then  sat 
down  by  his  mistress  and  gazed  at  the  visitor. 

"  Here  is  some  one  who  gives  of  himself,  and  who  holds 
nothing  back,"  said  Temple,  with  her  hand  on  the  dog's 
head. 


BREAKING   DOWN  237 

Miss  Wallis  stood  hesitating.  It  was  as  if  she  wished  to 
say  something.     But  all  she  said  was, 

"  Please  let  me  come  again.  Please  don't  think  of  me  as 
a  stranger." 

"No,  no,  indeed,"  was  the  cordial  reply;  "I  could  not 
think  of  you  as  of  so  many  who  come  to  me — I  want  them 
to  come,  you  know,  if  they  fancy  I  can  help  them — but  it  is 
different,  the  seeing  you." 

"  I  am  so  glad  of  that.  And  may  I  bring  a  friend  with 
me  ?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  It's — it's  the  man  I  expect  to  marry — "  Miss  Wallis 
could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  go  without  saying  this,  and 
she  could  not  tell  why  she  wanted  to  say  it.  "  And  he  says 
he  used  to  know  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  Temple,  calmly  ;  "  I  saw  him  in  the  audience 
with  you  last  night.     Yale  Boynton  ?" 

"Yes.     I  had  no  idea  he  knew  you." 

Temple  laughed,  and  as  she  did  so  half  a  dozen  years 
seemed  to  be  taken  from  her  aspect. 

"  It  was  he  who  gave  me  my  first  violin  lessons,"  she  said. 
"  Does  he  play  any  of  late  .'*" 

"  I  hardly  know.     He  has  been  abroad  for  some  time." 

"  How  hungry  we  were  in  those  days  !"  went  on  Temple, 
"  and  what  good  lunches  he  used  to  bring  from  Asheville  !" 

She  spoke  as  if  her  hearer  must  know  these  details. 

"  It  all  came  back  to  me  when  I  saw  Mr.  Boynton  last 
night." 

"  Anyway,  she  never  cared  for  him,"  thought  Amy.  "  But 
he  must  have  been  blind  if  he  did  not  care  for  her — blind  !" 

Then  she  said  good-bye,  and  went  her  ways. 

All  that  day  and  all  the  next  she  could  not  put  the 
thought  of  Mrs.  Mercer  from  her  mind.  Even  the  pres- 
ence of  her  lover  could  not  quite  banish  this  remembrance. 
But  she  did  not  mention  this  subject  of  her  thoughts  until 
Boynton  made  an  apparently  careless  inquiry, 

"Oh,  did  you  call  on  Mrs.  Mercer.?" 


238  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

The  tone  piqued  the  girl,  and  she  only  said, 

"  Certainly." 

The  young  man  would  not  glance  at  her,  and  yet  he  was 
longing  to  know  what  Amy  knew,  A  stinging  self-con- 
sciousness, of  which  he  could  not  rid  himself,  made  it  im- 
possible for  him  to  ask  questions. 

And  yet  it  would  be  odd  if  he  did  not. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "were  you  disillusioned  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

"  Charming,  isn't  she  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  I  shouldn't  choose  that  word.  She  is  more  ;  she  has  a 
strong  attraction.     She  draws  and  holds  one's  interest." 

"Ah!  It  strikes  me,  Amy,  that  I  don't  seem  to  be  able 
to  select  terms  to  please  you  in  these  days,"  he  said. 

"  It  strikes  me  you  wilfully  put  yourself  out  of  accord 
with  me,"  she  answered. 

She  was  very  cheerful.  She  could  not  imagine  why  there 
should  be  a  certain  something  in  Boynton's  manner.  He 
had  no  idea  that  she  perceived  this  something.  He  could 
not  entirely  banish  the  remembrance  of  the  effect  this  sud- 
den seeing  of  Temple  Crawford  had  had  upon  him  the  oth- 
er night. 

He  was  quite  astonished  at  himself. 

In  the  silence  which  came  the  lovers  were  vaguely  fol- 
lowing out  disagreeable  trains  of  thought,  and  feeling  quite 
apart  from  each  other. 

"  She  remembers  you,"  said  Amy.  "  She  noticed  you 
that  evening." 

"  That  was  more  than  I  expected,"  responded  Boynton, 
afraid  that  he  did  not  sufficiently  conceal  his  interest. 

"  She  says  you  first  taught  her  to  play  the  violin,"  went 
on  Amy. 

"Yes;  so  I  did.  The  child  took  to  playing  wonder- 
fully." 

"  She  could  hardly  have  been  a  child  three  years  ago," 
said  Amy. 

"  That's  true  enough.     But  a  girl  in  a  velvet  coat  and  a 


BREAKING    DOWN  239 

little  faded  short  skirt  and  a  big  felt  hat  dashing  over  the 
country  on  horseback  doesn't  have  the  effect  of  a  grown 
woman,  somehow.  She  was,  in  fact,  though,  twenty  three 
or  four,  I  suppose." 

The  girl  did  not  speak  directly. 

"You  don't  seem  to  approve  of  me,"  remarked  Boynton. 

Amy  looked  at  him. 

"  Your  manner  is  a  little  peculiar,"  she  said.  "  It  need 
not  be,"  with  a  good  deal  of  firmness.  "  Even  if  you  were 
in  love  with  Mrs.  Mercer  before  her  marriage,  I  should 
have  nothing  to  say  to  that." 

Boynton  wished  that  he  could  explain  that  it  was  the  way 
he  was  thinking  of  Mrs.  Mercer  now  that  gave  any  peculi- 
arity to  his  manner.  But  he  could  not  explain  that.  And 
he  did  not  say  that  he  had  been  to  the  meeting  the  evening 
following  the  night  when  he  had  gone  with  Amy.  He  had 
kept  carefully  behind  backs  in  the  crowd,  and  he  was  quite 
sure  that  Temple  had  not  noticed  him.  But  he  had  gazed 
at  her  and  listened  to  her.  The  sound  of  her  voice  had 
gone  into  his  soul. 

He  could  not  tell  all  that  to  this  girl  who  was  now  look- 
ing at  him  with  frank  interrogation  in  her  eyes. 

Presently  the  two  began  talking  upon  another  subject, 
for  Amy  did  not  seem  inclined  to  give  any  more  particulars 
about  her  call  upon  Mrs.  Mercer. 

When  Boynton  left  her  he  went  straight  to  Ashburton 
Place.  Having  reached  the  house,  he  paused  irresolutely, 
went  back  to  the  corner,  returned,  rang  the  bell,  and  sent  in 
his  card  to  Mrs.  Mercer. 

He  was  admitted  instantly.  The  Newfoundland  was  the 
only  occupant  of  the  room  when  he  entered,  and  he  rose 
from  before  the  grate  and  came  solemnly  forward,  his  tail 
sweeping  slowly  from  side  to  side. 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  old  fellow  ?"  exclaimed  Boynton, 
unreasonably  glad  to  meet  the  dog.  "  Give  me  a  paw,  Yu- 
catan ?" 

The  rush  of  remembrance  and  emotion  which  the  young 


240  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

man  had  been  battling  against  for  several  days  seemed  for 
an  instant  unendurable,  when  a  voice  at  the  door  said, 

"Yucatan  hasn't  forgotten  the  sandwiches  in  the  boat  on 
the  French  Broad,  Mr.  Boynton." 

Temple  stood  with  the  drapery  of  the  doorway  in  her  hand, 
and  smiled  at  her  guest.     He  advanced  hurriedly  to  her. 

"  It  is  delightful  to  see  you  again !"  he  exclaimed,  quite 
taken  off  his  guard  by  this  reference  to  the  past. 

"  It  is  kind  of  you  to  think  so,"  she  answered. 

"Kind!"  he  repeated. 

He  was  still  holding  the  hand  she  had  given  him  in  greet- 
ing, holding  it  and  looking  at  her,  not  at  all  aware  of  how 
much  he  was  revealing  in  his  face. 

He  had  never  been  one  to  think  much  of  self-denial  in 
any  way.  He  had  a  habit  of  considering  himself  as  one 
who  was  so  refined  and  delicate  in  his  habits  and  tastes  as 
to  be  in  no  special  need  of  self-denial. 

Of  course  there  were  gross  natures  whose  impulses  need- 
ed restraint.  But  he  was  not  one  of  that  kind.  He  did 
not  go  about  to  do  evil,  he  would  have  said. 

Temple  withdrew  her  hand  and  sat  down,  as  one  sits 
who  is  too  weary  to  stand. 

Boynton  placed  himself  opposite  her,  his  eyes  still  upon 
her  face. 

"  Really,"  he  began,  with  a  long  breath,  "  I  did  not  know 
I  had  missed  you  so  much ;  but  now  I  realize  how  thirsty  I 
have  been  for  a  sight  of  you." 

He  spoke  in  that  tone  of  half-banter  which  is  so  difficult 
to  resent. 

Temple  was  lying  back  in  her  chair.  She  could  not  con- 
ceal the  effort  she  had  to  make  to  speak  at  all. 

"You  haven't  forgotten  your  old  trick  of  exaggeration," 
she  said. 

"  Does  it  please  you  to  call  it  exaggeration  .?"  he  respond- 
ed. "  I'm  not  conscious  of  being  guilty  in  that  direction. 
But  I'm  not  so  presuming  as  to  think  you  remember  that 
time  among  the  mountains  as  I  do." 


BREAKING   DOWN  241 

"  I  remember  the  mountains,"  she  answered,  in  a  low 
voice. 

Boynton  sat  silent  an  instant.  His  gaze  seemed  to  en- 
velop the  woman  and  the  dog  beside  her.  He  had  a  curi- 
ous, baffling  perception  that  he  had  been  a  blind  idiot  to 
fancy  for  a  moment  that  he  was  in  love  with  Amy  Wallis. 
He  had  also  a  conviction  that  he  ought  to  make  much  of 
the  affection  he  did  feel  for  Amy.  Why,  there  was  a  de- 
light in  sitting  here  in  the  room  with  Temple  that  was  a 
different  thing  altogether  from  anything — 

Here  he  tried  to  break  away  from  a  certain  power  that 
was  holding  him. 

"  You  are  ill,  Mrs.  Mercer,"  he  said,  at  last. 

"  I  am  very  tired,"  was  the  answer. 

"  More  than  that,"  said  Boynton,  with  some  vehemence. 
"  These  people  will  kill  you ;  all  these  souls  clamoring  for 
help  from  you — " 

"  It's  not  that,"  interrupted  Temple,  starting  up  from  her 
recumbent  attitude,  her  aspect  changing  ;  "  it  is  because  I 
can  help  so  little  that  I  am  worn  out.  I  long  to  give  what 
they  want,  but  I  cannot — I  cannot." 

There  was  something  tense  in  her  whole  appearance,  in 
the  very  fingers  that  she  tried  to  make  lie  quiescent  in  her 
lap.  Boynton  pitied  her.  And  he  was  genuinely  alarmed, 
too.  What  was  Mercer  thinking  about  to  let  her  go  on  in 
this  way  ?  he  asked  himself,  savagely.  Were  not  her  health 
and  life  worth  anything  as  weighed  against  the  demands  of 
the  rabble  ?  The  young  man  fiercely  called  the  people 
rabble. 

"  Since  you  cannot,"  he  said,  sharply,  "  why  not,  at  least, 
give  rest  to  yourself.?  Do  pardon  me,  but  I  don't  think 
you  quite  know  how  used  up  you  look.  When  I  see  you  at 
the  meetings  you  are  different,  somehow." 

"  I  am  then  the  horse  that  is  spurred,"  she  answered — 

"  spurred  by  my  desire  to  be  of  some  use.     Why  should  I 

live  if  I  cannot  be  of  use  to  other  souls  who  are  seeking  as 

I  am  seeking  .'*" 
16 


242  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

She  paused,  and  made  an  effort  to  be  calm.  She  did  not 
know  why  it  was,  but  for  a  long  time  now  it  seemed  to  her 
that  she  was  all  the  time  trying  to  be  calm — trying  and 
failing.  There  was  continually  within  her  frame  a  tingling 
riot  of  nerves.  Often  she  succeeded  in  concealing  all  to- 
kens of  that  riot,  but  it  was  only  concealed,  not  appeased. 

This  was  one  of  the  days  when  her  efforts  met  with  little 
success.  She  wished  that  her  visitor  would  go.  At  the 
first  moment  she  had  been  glad  to  see  him.  Now  the 
memories  the  sight  of  him  awakened  were  intolerable — 
memories  of  the  mountains,  and  of  wild,  free  days. 

And  to  remember  all  this  seemed  wicked.  She  could 
not  reason  out  why  it  was  wicked.  She  could  not  reason 
out  anything  any  more.  And  she  longed  to  be  able  to  stop 
making  the  attempt  to  do  so. 

Boynton,  at  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  rose  to  go. 
He  had  been  the  principal  talker,  and  she  seemed  to  listen. 
He  begged  to  be  allowed  to  come  again. 

When  he  had  gone.  Temple  quickly  summoned  the  girl 
who  attended  the  door,  and  instructed  her  that  she  was  to 
admit  no  one  else  during  the  day — not  even  in  the  usual 
hours. 

"You  be  lookin'  sick,  sure,"  said  the  girl,  kindly.  "And 
I've  seen  it  ever  since  you  come." 

Temple  made  no  reply.  She  returned  to  the  middle  of 
the  room.  She  stood  there  with  one  hand  pressed  to  the 
back  of  her  head. 

"  It's  only  because  I'm  so  tired,"  she  said,  aloud,  "  and 
I  used  to  be  so  strong.  How  long  ago  is  it  since  I  used  to 
be  strong?  A  hundred  years?  Seeing  Mr.  Boynton  makes 
me  think  of  those  days." 

She  looked  at  the  dog,  who  was  lying  on  the  mat  in  front 
of  the  fire. 

Suddenly,  with  a  movement  of  abandon,  she  laid  herself 
down  beside  Yucatan.  She  took  his  head  in  her  arms,  and 
pressed  it  closely  to  her. 

"  Oh,  my  dog  !    My  own,  own  dog !"  she  cried,  in  a  sharp 


BREAKING    DOWN  243 

whisper.  "  My  true  love,  what  should  I  do  without  you  ? 
Tell  me,  dear  heart,  tell  me !  When  I  look  in  your  eyes  I 
know  you  love  me.  How  foolish  you  are  to  love  me  !  Oh, 
how  foolish  to  love — to  love  !" 

The  voice  changed  from  a  whisper  to  a  cry. 

Temple's  head  dropped  on  the  dog's  side,  and  she  began 
to  sob  in  a  fury  of  excitement  and  weakness.  Her  tears 
came  as  rain  comes  in  a  tempest.  The  dog's  hair  became 
wet  with  them. 

The  words  in  her  mind  were :  "  It's  just  because  I'm  tired 
and  nervous — tired  and  nervous." 

As  she  lay  there  weeping  the  door  opened,  though  she 
did  not  hear  it,  and  Mercer  entered. 

He  stopped  instantly,  just  within  the  room.  His  face 
contracted.  Then  he  made  a  quick  step  forward,  as  though 
he  would  lift  his  wife  in  his  arms.  But  he  did  not  touch 
her. 

She  heard  the  step,  and  sprang  up.  She  put  a  hand  each 
side  of  her  head  as  she  looked  at  Mercer.  Her  effort  to  be- 
come calm  was  so  visibly  painful  that  Mercer's  face  again 
underwent  that  spasm. 

"  You  must  let  me  help  you,  if  possible,"  he  said,  his 
words  not  quite  distinct.  "You  are  worn  out.  I  have  seen 
it  for  some  time." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  said,  eagerly,  "  that  is  it :  I  am  worn  out. 
I  was  just  hugging  Yucatan  and  crying  because  I  am  tired. 
You  know  women  cry  because  of  —  of  anything  and  every- 
thing.    You  mustn't  be  troubled  about  me,  Richard." 

Mercer  turned  and  went  into  the  next  room.  He  came 
back  almost  immediately  with  a  glass  in  his  hand. 

"  It  is  wine  and  liquid  food,"  he  said. 

She  took  the  glass  and  swallowed  its  contents. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  responded,  just  glancing  at  him.  "  I 
am  really  ashamed  of  myself.  I'm  afraid  I  have  never  had 
enough  sympathy  for  hysterical  women." 

"You  are  not  an  hysterical  woman,"  was  the  reply. 

Mercer  arranged  the  pillows  on  the  couch  near.      He 


244  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

took  Temple's  hand  and  led  her  to  the  couch,  then  cov- 
ered her  carefully  after  she  was  lying  upon  it.  He  stood 
looking  down  at  her.     She  was  gazing  into  the  fire. 

"  I  hope  you  will  give  up  going  to  the  meeting  to-night," 
he  said,  at  last. 

His  manner  was  full  of  gentleness  and  kindness. 

"  I  must  go,"  she  answered. 

He  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat  down.  He  had  never  laid 
any  command  upon  her.     He  was  tempted  to  do  so  now. 

"  It  is  not  wise,"  he  remarked. 

He  had  himself  well  in  hand  by  this  time.  His  face 
showed  only  sympathetic  consideration. 

"Perhaps  it  isn't  wise  in  one  sense,"  she  responded; 
"  but  there  are  a  few  who  will  expect  me,  and  I  might  be 
able  to  help  them.     Richard,  I  must  go  to-night." 

And  she  did  go.  Her  singing  and  her  prayers  were  never 
so  full  of  their  own  peculiar  appealing  power.  The  people 
thronged  up  to  speak  to  her. 

But  when  she  went  with  Mercer  to  the  carriage  which 
awaited  them  she  suddenly  clung  closely  to  his  arm,  and 
he  heard  her  whisper, 

"This  time  I  am  really  too  tired." 

She  sank  back  unconscious  upon  the  seat. 

He  took  her  home.  It  seemed  hours  to  him  before  he 
had  brought  his  sister  to  her  bedside.  The  physician  in 
Mrs.  Ammidown  always  came  uppermost  at  call,  and  her 
brother  had  in  times  past  had  many  evidences  of  her  skill 
and  judgment. 

As  she  bent  over  the  bed  on  which  Temple  had  been 
placed,  Mercer  stood  beside  her,  his  gaze  fixed  on  his  wife's 
face,  which  was  white  and  set,  the  eyes  half  closed.  He 
had  asked  if  he  should  get  another  doctor,  and  Mrs.  Am- 
midown had  answered  that  it  was  not  necessary  at  present; 
that  Temple  would  revive  directly. 

And  her  prediction  proved  true  a  few  moments  later,  for 
Temple's  breath  came  long  and  shudderingly ;  then  she 
opened  her  eyes. 


BREAKING   DOWN  245 

"  I'm  sorry  I've  been  so  much  trouble,"  she  said,  feebly, 
"  but  you  see  I  am  so  very  weary.  Richard  was  right ;  I 
ought  not  to  have  gone." 

"  Why  do  you  try  to  talk  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Ammidown,  with 
asperity.  "  Of  course  Richard  was  right ;  but  he  would 
have  been  right  still  more  if  he  had  locked  you  up  in  your 
room.  I  shall  forbid  you  attempting  to  save  souls  for  one 
six  months,  I  can  tell  you." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  sometimes  allowed  herself  considerable 
latitude  in  speaking  of  saving  souls. 

"Am  I  so  badly  off  as  that?"  questioned  Temple. 

"Just  as  bad  as  that,"  was  the  prompt  response.  "  You 
have  lived  on  your  nerves  as  long  as  they  will  permit  the 
imposition  ;  and  now  you  may  take  your  choice  between  a 
long  rest  and  becoming  a  wreck.  I'd  like  to  make  you  un- 
derstand that  you  are  to  let  other  people's  souls  alone  for 
months,  if  not  for  all  the  rest  of  your  life." 

"  Oh,  Laura  !"  murmured  Temple. 

"  I  mean  it  all,"  continued  Mrs.  Ammidown,  "  and  much 
more  that  I  don't  say." 

"  You  need  not  fear  to  frighten  me,"  said  Temple ;  "  I'm 
not  afraid  of  death — I  don't  dread  it." 

Here  Mercer  turned  suddenly  away.  He  walked  into  the 
adjoining  room.  He  leaned  his  back  against  the  wall  and 
stared  straight  before  him.  His  hands  hung  tightly  shut 
by  his  side.     There  was  a  strange,  glassy  look  in  his  eyes. 

By  his  wife's  bed  Mrs.  Ammidown  responded, 

"  No,  you  may  not  dread  death,  but  Tm  sure  you  dread 
years  of  inefficiency,  when  you'll  feel  as  if  you  were  one  tan- 
gle of  nerves  untuned  and  clashing  helplessly,  and  you  a 
plaything  in  the  hands  of  these  demons,  anticipating  every- 
thing evil,  dreading  your  own  shadow." 

"Laura!" 

Mrs.  Ammidown  now  smiled  reassuringly.  She  sat  down 
by  the  bed  and  took  her  patient's  hand  in  hers. 

"  Don't  talk  to  Richard  like  that !"  exclaimed  Temple. 
"  He  will  be  so  worried.     He  is  so  kind,  so  considerate, 


246  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

and  he  has  been  begging  me  for  a  long  time  not  to  go  to 
the  meetings." 

As  she  spoke  thus,  Temple  felt  her  companion's  eyes 
fixed  upon  her  in  such  a  penetrating  way  that,  without 
knowing  why  she  did  so,  she  blushed  with  the  painful  inten- 
sity of  weakness. 

"  I  meant  to  frighten  you,"  went  on  Mrs.  Ammidown. 
"  Fright  was  a  bitter  dose  I  wanted  you  to  take.  Of  course 
you  haven't  been  sleeping  well  ?" 

"  Oh  no,"  wearily. 

"  And  I  know  you  don't  care  to  eat." 

"  No." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  sat  holding  the  hot  hand  that,  while 
it  seemed  to  be  perfectly  quiet,  yet  had  a  kind  of  flutter 
within  it.  She  was  contemplating  the  face  before  her, 
and  thinking  with  keen  pain  of  the  difference  between 
it  and  the  face  of  the  healthy  girl  who  had  ridden  among 
the  mountains — who  had  saved  her  life.  On  Temple's  fin- 
ger was  still  the  diamond  ring  she  had  given  her. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  rose. 

"  I'm  going  to  give  you  something  soothing  now,  but 
afterwards  I  shall  not  order  medicine  for  you.  Nobody 
but  a  doctor  knows  in  how  many  cases  medicine  is  power- 
less. I'm  going  home  to  think  about  you.  Meantime,  lie 
here  until  to-morrow." 

The  speaker  moved  away  from  the  bed,  but  Temple 
called  her  back. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  something,"  she  whispered.  "  I 
think  you're  deceived  about  something." 

"  Well,"  with  an  incredulous  smile,  "  you  won't  make  me 
believe  that  you  are  a  very  deceitful  person." 

"No;  but  — "  here  a  pause.  "It's  about — well,"  an- 
other pause ;  then  hurriedly,  and  with  an  access  of  color, 
"saving  souls,  you  know.  I've  been  sincere — I  long  to  help. 
— yes,  I  long  to  help,  but  I  confess  that  of  late — for  a  time 
— I've  craved  the  excitement  that  came  with  the  knowledge 
of  the  power  I  seemed  to  have.    I've  lived  on  it,  somehow. 


BREAKING   DOWN  247 

You  see  how  wicked  I  am.  I  don't  know  what  Richard 
would  do  if  he  suspected  such  a  thing.  He  is  sincere.  I 
thought  I  was.  Now  I'm  sure  that  I've  loved  the  excite- 
ment. What  do  you  think  of  me?  Oh,  Laura,  what  do 
you  think  of  me  .'"' 

Temple  caught  at  Mrs.  Ammidown's  skirt  in  a  way  that 
was  so  unlike  her  old  self  that  the  woman  hearing  her  could 
have  cried  out  in  sorrow. 

The  man  in  the  next  room  heard  the  words  and  the  tone. 
He  started.  Then  he  restrained  himself,  and  put  his  hands 
over  his  face,  standing  still. 

"  Think  of  you.?"  returned  Laura,  cheerfully.  "  Why,  that 
your  nerves  are  all  worn  to  an  edge,  and  that  they  give  you 
impressions  that  are  not  to  be  trusted ;  therefore,  you  draw 
wrong  conclusions." 

"  Do  you  think  it's  that?"  piteously.  "Do  you  really 
think  it's  that.  And  that  I  needn't  worry  for  fear  IVe  been 
deceitful  ?  And  that  Richard  would  not  think  I'd  been  in- 
sincere ?  I  would  not  have  him  think  that.  Richard  is 
honor — truth  itself." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  was  going  to  reply  when  her  brother 
suddenly  entered  the  room,  walking  swiftly  and  softly  up  to 
the  bed. 

He  bent  over  Temple.  He  took  her  hand  and  held  it 
closely  for  an  instant,  his  face  melting  into  a  look  of  inef- 
fable tenderness  and  pride. 

Then  suddenly,  as  if  remembering,  he  gently  put  down 
the  hand. 


XV 

THE    RELAXING   WOMAN 

Mrs.  Ammidown  turned  to  leave  the  room.  She  had 
never  been  able  to  think  quietly  and  resignedly  of  this  mar- 
riage, and  just  now  she  was  more  rebellious  than  ever  con- 
cerning it.  She  was  saying  to  herself  that  it  was  really 
astonishing  what  idiots  sensible  people  would  make  of  them- 
selves. 

Mercer  continued  to  stand  by  his  wife's  bed.  He  was 
paler  than  usual,  and  his  mouth  was  less  firm,  try  as  hard  as 
he  might  to  control  its  expression. 

After  one  swift  glance  at  him  Temple  turned  her  eyes 
away. 

"  I'm  afraid  this  will  interrupt  your  work,"  she  said,  anx- 
iously. 

"  I'm  not  thinking  of  my  work,"  he  answered.  He  found 
that  he  was  obliged  to  make  an  effort  to  speak  with  the 
calmness  of  courtesy.  And  he  was  always  very  gentle  and 
courteous  and  considerate  with  Temple.  "  I  am  thinking 
of  you.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  a  criminal  because  I  did 
not  absolutely  prevent  your  taking  part  lately  in  these  meet- 
ings. I  shall  never  forgive  myself.  I  cannot  bear  to  have 
you  suffer  in  any  way." 

There  was  a  vibration  in  his  voice  that  made  Temple 
glance  at  him  again  with  that  look  which  dives,  but  does  not 
linger  an  instant. 

"  I  shall  be  able  to  join  you  in  a  few  days  again,"  she 
said,  and  her  tone  sounded  cold  in  contrast  with  his. 
*'  Laura  exaggerates.  I'm  a  little  worn  just  now,  that  is 
all." 


THE    RELAXING   WOMAN  249 

There  was  that  in  her  manner  which  made  Mercer  draw 
himself  up  with  a  visible  effort. 

He  thrust  his  hand  into  the  breast  of  his  tightly  buttoned 
coat  as  he  stood  there  erect.  There  was  something  antique, 
something  strangely  heroic  in  the  severe  outline  of  face  and 
figure. 

"  I  shall  certainly  see  to  it  that  you  have  every  opportu- 
nity to  rest,"  he  responded. 

Then  he  left  the  room.  He  did  not  even  glance  at  his 
sister  as  he  strode  through  the  sitting-room  where  she  sat. 
He  did  not  seem  to  be  aware  of  her  presence  in  any  way. 
When  he  had  reached  his  own  sleeping-room  he  shut  the 
door  noiselessly  behind  him  and  drew  the  bolt. 

He  advanced  to  the  middle  of  the  floor.  He  stumbled 
against  a  chair.  He  took  close  hold  of  the  back  and 
straightened  himself  again.  It  was  always  his  instinct  to 
throw  back  his  head  and  meet  a  foe  front  to  front. 

"I  can  bear  it,"  he  said,  in  a  just  audible  voice.  "God 
knows  I  can  bear  everything  He  sends." 

He  stood  a  moment  thus  before  he  knelt  by  the  chair, 
hiding  his  face  in  his  hands  on  the  cushion.  He  prayed,  a 
fire  of  longing,  an  ice  of  despair  in  his  petition. 

"Even  though  I  can  never  make  her  love  me,  oh,  God, 
let  her  live  in  this  same  world  with  me !" 

Over  and  over  these  words  rushed  through  his  brain.  He 
tried  to  form  other  words,  but  he  could  not. 

At  last  he  rose  and  sat  down  in  a  chair  by  the  table  which 
held  his  Bible.  Mechanically  he  took  up  the  Bible.  He 
had  intended  to  read  something  in  reference  to  the  meeting 
for  the  evening,  but  he  found  that  he  could  not  take  in  the 
meaning  of  a  single  sentence.  But  he  held  himself,  as  if 
bound  with  cords,  in  this  place  until  at  last  his  thoughts 
obeyed  his  will. 

The  next  day  Temple  was  languidly  sitting  up,  and  the 
next  she  seemed  so  much  better  that  she  announced  her 
intention  of  seeing  the  people  who  called. 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Ammidown,  who  had  just  come  in,  "you 


250  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

will  do  no  such  thing.  I  have  had  your  case  on  my  mind, 
and  I've  decided  what  you  must  do.  First  of  all,  I  am  going 
to  put  you  under  the  relaxing  woman." 

Temple  looked  up  with  a  faint  smile,  but  not  much  show 
of  interest. 

"  You  are  becoming  a  tyrant,  Laura.  Who  is  the  relaxing 
woman  ?" 

"  Oh,  she  doesn't  call  herself  that,  but  that's  what  she  is. 
She  has  a  mission,  and  her  mission  is  to  teach  people  to 
bear  their  whole  weight." 

"Oh!" 

"  Yes,  when  they  sit  down  or  lie  down." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  All  ?  I  assure  you  that  is  a  great  deal.  You  have  no 
idea  how  much  it  involves.  The  safety  of  the  race  depends 
upon  the  power  of  each  individual  to  bear  his  weight — then 
he  rests.  I  don't  suppose  you  have  really  rested  since  you 
took  up  this  fad  of  saving  souls." 

"  Laura !" 

"It  is  a  fad,"  was  the  calm  response,  "but  I  don't  mean 
that  it  shall  kill  you.  And  you  sympathize,  and  give  of 
yourself  to  all  these  creatures." 

"  They  are  my  brothers  and  sisters,"  was  the  reply. 

Temple's  face  kindled  as  she  went  on.  "Why  shouldn't  I 
help  them  .?  What  is  the  use  of  living  if  it  is  not  for  service 
to  God  and  man — if  it  is  not  to  help,  to  spend  your  very  self.?'' 

"You  are  going  to  stop  spending  yourself,"  said  Mrs. 
Ammidown,  still  calmly.  "  The  relaxing  woman  will  attend 
to  that.  She  doesn't  allow  her  pupils  to  sympathize,  or 
emotionalize,  or  do  any  of  those  things.  If  there  is  any 
power  left  in  you  it  is  to  be  conserved  for  your  own  use. 
You  are  not  to  give  any  more  of  it  out  for  any  reason  what- 
ever.    Store  it  up." 

"  As  a  miser  stores  his  money,"  said  Temple,  scornfully. 

"  Exactly.  Then  you'll  have  it  to  draw  upon.  And  you 
are  not  going  to  feel  anything  more,  only  as  you  are  per- 
mitted." 


THE    RELAXING   WOMAN  25 1 

"You  are  speaking  of  a  great  life,  full  of  human  possi- 
bilities," remarked  Temple,  with  still  more  scorn. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  smiled  indulgently. 

"  She  does  it  for  three  dollars  an  hour,"  she  said.  "  She 
combines  an  eye  to  what  is  called  the  main  chance  with 
great  good  to  nervous  women." 

Temple  clasped  her  hands  suddenly  and  forcibly. 

"  But  I'm  not  a  nervous  woman !"  she  cried. 

"  Aren't  you  ?" 

"  No,  no !  Why,  don't  you  remember,  Laura,  how  strong 
I  always  was  down  there  in  Carolina,  and  how  I  didn't  even 
know  what  nerves  were — save  that  my  happiness  was  too 
great  sometimes?     Don't  you  remember?" 

The  speaker's  eyes  dilated  painfully  and  then  filled  with, 
tears. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other,  "  I  know ;  but  you  have  changed 
all  that.  You  have  made  such  calls  on  your  strength  ; 
you  seemed  to  think  that  it  was  limitless.  And  then,  par- 
don me.  Temple  " — here  the  woman  bent  forward  and  took 
the  clasped  hands — "you  have  not  been  happy." 

"Oh,  don't!  don't!"  murmured  Temple. 

"  No,  no.  But  a  little  harshness  is  sometimes  strength- 
ening. I  am  not  going  to  say  anything  more  than  this  : 
you  acted  upon  a  theory  you  had  about  marrying  on  a 
basis  of  respect  and  regard  merely.  You  thought  you 
could  improve  upon  nature.  You  thought  going  against 
the  natural  impulses  of  the  human  heart  was  a  fine  thing 
to  do.  Well,  you  can't  do  that  and  come  off  victor.  You're 
vanquished.     Your  being  gives  up  the  unequal  battle. 

"  When  a  sensitive  and  refined  woman  acts  out  the  theo- 
ry of  a  marriage  for  anything  else  than  love  she  certainly 
deserves  to  lose  her  self-respect,  and  generally  does  lose  it. 

"  Do  you  remember  that  writer  who  says :  '  No  woman 
marries  a  man  without  loving  him  but  has  her  moral  sense 
obscured  ?' " 

Temple's  eyes  had  been  fixed  upon  the  speaker. 

"  Laura,  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  some  things — I  wish — " 


252  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Having  said  so  much,  Temple  withdrew  her  hands  and 
twisted  them  together.     She  smiled  piteously. 

"  But  no ;  I  really  have  nothing  to  say.  It  is  weak  to 
talk  about  one's  self  and  to  pity  one's  self.  And  I  wanted 
to  do  good,  and  to  help  people.  Now  if  I'm  going  to  be  a 
nervous  woman — "  Here  her  lips  quivered  and  the  tears 
dropped  from  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Ammidown,  easily,  "  because  you  have 
worn  yourself  down  like  this,  it  by  no  means  follows  that 
you  are  going  to  keep  on  being  a  nervous  woman." 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  be  well  again  in  a  few  weeks,"  said 
Temple,  pleadingly. 

"  No  ;  let  us  look  the  thing  in  the  face.  You  must  rest 
for  months,  perhaps  for  a  year.  Here  is  the  programme  : 
First,  you  go  to  Miss  MacCallum  for  treatment.  Her  treat- 
ment is  good  for  people  who  live  too  fast,  because  she  tries 
to  teach  them  not  to  live  at  all.  And  that  is  exactly  what 
you  need  now.  You  are  to  be  taught  simply  to  rest.  If 
you  can  rest  long  enough  you  will  be  well  again,  for  there 
is  no  organic  trouble.  Then  I  want  you,  as  soon  as  it  gets 
mild,  to  go  into  the  country ;  stay  all  the  summer  with  Yu- 
catan ;  have  Thimble ;  ride,  stroll,  vegetate.  If  you  feel 
as  if  you  were  going  to  sympathize  with  somebody,  stop 
where  you  are.  You  need  not  help  a  creature.  Would  you 
like  to  be  back  in  Limestone  township  when  spring  is  really 
here  ?" 

A  shade  came  over  Temple's  expressive  face.  She  hesi- 
tated, but  at  last  said, 

"  No ;  let  me  go  to  some  new  place,  and  I  will  send  for 
Thimble.  Oh,"  with  a  sudden  brightening,  "  I  will  write  to 
Miss  Drowdy.  She  lives  here  in  Massachusetts.  Perhaps 
she  will  let  me  stay  with  her." 

''  Miss  Drowdy  let  it  be,  then,"  was  the  answer.  "  Only 
to-morrow  we  will  call  on  Miss  MacCallum." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  walked  towards  the  door.  She  knew 
that  she  had  been  a  little  harsh  in  her  manner,  but  it  had 
been  purposely.     Now  she  paused  and  looked  back. 


THE    RELAXING   WOMAN  253 

"It  seems  to  me,"  she  said,  "that  your  dear  old  moun- 
tains ought  to  be  able  to  heal  and  strengthen  you.  Are 
you  sure  it  is  wise  to  go  somewhere  else  ?" 

There  was  something  in  the  face  of  the  younger  woman 
as  she  heard  these  words  that  made  Mrs.  Ammidown's 
heart  suddenly  contract  with  the  keenness  of  her  sym- 
pathy. Yielding  to  a  strong  impulse,  she  crossed  the  room 
and  knelt  down  by  Temple's  chair,  putting  her  arms  about 
her  and  drawing  the  slight  form  to  her. 

Temple's  head  dropped  upon  her  companion's  shoulder, 
but  she  did  not  sob  nor  weep ;  she  was  very  still. 

"You  are  morbid  and  supersensitive,"  said  Mrs.  Ammi- 
down,  after  a  silence.  Then,  wdth  a  slight  laugh,  "  You  see, 
it's  hyperesthesia,  and  that  kind  of  thing.  Everything  will 
be  different  after  you  are  rested  and  nourished.  Flesh  and 
blood  and  nerves  resent  certain  things,  and  then  we  think 
it's  our  souls  or  our  spirits  which  are  diseased.  But  bless 
me !  here  I  am  sympathizing  wdth  you !  How  ridiculous 
of  me !" 

Mrs.  Ammidown  rose.  She  announced,  in  the  most 
practical  manner,  that  she  would  call  at  three  to  take  Tem- 
ple to  Miss  MacCallum. 

When  she  had  reached  the  hall  she  hesitated  a  moment. 
The  seeming  result  of  her  hesitation  was  that  she  took  a 
card  from  her  case,  wrote  a  line  upon  it,  rang  the  bell,  and 
asked  the  servant  to  take  the  card  to  Mr.  Mercer  immedi- 
ately. 

When  Mercer  read  what  his  sister  had  written,  "  Call 
upon  me  within  the  hour,"  he  put  his  overcoat  on  his  arm, 
and  with  his  hat  in  his  hand  he  entered  the  sitting-room. 

He  had  one  glimpse  of  Temple's  colorless  face  as  it  was 
leaned  upon  her  chair  before  she  was  aware  of  his  en- 
trance. That  glance  was  like  a  knife-thrust  in  his  heart. 
Instantly  she  had  assumed  a  look  of  some  animation,  and 
her  lips  put  on  a  smile. 

"  I  only  came  to  say  that  I  was  going  out  for  a  short 
time,"  said  Mercer,  advancing  into  the  room.     "  I  wish  I 


254  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

could  get  you  something  —  to  amuse  you,  to  entertain  you 
in  some  way." 

He  took  her  hand  and  held  it  a  moment,  lightly,  in  a 
sort  of  distant  manner,  then  laid  it  gently  down. 

"Thank  you,  Richard,  I  can't  think  of  anything,"  she  be- 
gan. And  then,  "  If  you'd  bring  some  kind  of  fruit,  I  should 
be  glad.     And  if  you  would  try  to  rest  a  little  yourself — " 

"  Oh,  I'm  well — well  and  strong,"  he  answered.  "  Don't 
think  otherwise." 

He  hurried  away.  He  was  quite  conscious  that  he  was 
childishly  grateful  that  she  had  mentioned  something  he 
might  get  for  her,  even  though  he  suspected  that  she  had 
spoken  thus  chiefly  to  gratify  him. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  was  waiting  for  him  at  her  rooms.  He 
walked  straight  up  to  her  and  took  hold  of  her  arm  in  a 
way  that  made  her  wince. 

"  Now,  tell  me  the  exact  truth,"  he  said,  harshly,  "  is  she 
going  to  live  ?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  instant  reply. 

Mercer  released  her  arm.  He  suddenly  began  to  trem- 
ble.    The  tremor  shook  his  whole  frame. 

His  sister  pushed  a  chair  tow^ards  him,  and  he  sat  dov/n 
in  it.  He  gazed  at  her  vaguely.  He  vaguely  felt  her  hand 
on  his  forehead  and  heard  her  say, 

"  Poor  fellow !" 

He  roused  himself  to  murmur,  apologetically, 

"  It's  been  a  strain." 

Laura  was  the  only  person  in  the  world  to  whom  he 
could  allow  himself  to  show  weakness. 

She  did  not  reply.  She  only  continued  to  caress  his  fore- 
head. 

"  She  must  go  down  to  Carolina,"  he  went  on  as  soon  as 
he  could.  "  She  will  get  well  among  her  own  mountains. 
And  I  will  stay  here.  Laura,  you  arrange  it ;  you  go  with 
her." 

"  It  was  the  mountains  that  I  thought  of  first,"  was  the 
reply.     "  But  she  doesn't  want  to  go." 


THE    RELAXING    WOMAN  255 

Mercer  started  forward  in  his  chair. 

"  It  is  because  she  was  happy  there,"  he  exclaimed,  "  and 
she  cannot  bear  to  go  back !  Yes,  she  was  happy  there. 
Good  God  !  Laura,  do  you  know  what  I've  made  her  suf- 
fer r 

The  woman  did  not  reply.  She  could  not.  She  stood 
there  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  her  brother. 

At  first  there  was  a  stirring  of  resentment  against  the 
woman  who  was  making  him  so  unhappy.  But  he  did  not 
mention  his  own  unhappiness.  He  was  thinking  of  his 
wife. 

She  felt  that  what  she  had  to  say  was  becoming  more 
and  more  difficult.    But  she  must  say  it.    She  began  bravely. 

"  I  asked  you  to  come  to  me  because  I  wanted  to  advise 
the  very  thing  you  mention."  Here  she  stopped  abruptly. 
He  did  not  speak,  only  gazed  at  her. 

"  It's  a  hard  thing  to  say,"  she  went  on  ;  "  but  when  a  per- 
son is  in  a  nervous  state,  on  the  verge  of  prostration,  we 
must  make  allowances — " 

Again  she  paused.  She  moved  quickly  still  closer  to  her 
brother,  leaning  over  him,  as  she  went  on,  but  not  glancing 
at  his  face. 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I  think  it  would  be  better  if 
you  did  not  go  into  the  country  with  Temple ;  better  if  she 
should  come  to  me  now  while  she  is  under  this  new  treat- 
ment which  I  advise  for  her.  She  needs  a  complete  change, 
and  if  she  does  not  see  you  she  will  not  be  reminded  of  her 
work — your  work.     Don't  misunderstand  me." 

"  No,  I  don't.     I  understand  you  thoroughly." 

Mercer  rose  as  he  spoke.  He  girded  himself  up.  "  I 
could  not  by  any  possibility  fail  to  understand  you.  And  it 
is  what  I  have  been  thinking.  More  than  that,  when  once 
Temple  goes  away  from  me  I  am  convinced  that  it  will  not 
be  advisable  for  me  to  join  her  again.  But  let  that  come 
about  naturally.  That  is  in  the  future.  I  may  be  obliged 
to  go  abroad,  or  to  the  West — a  hundred  things  may  be  ar- 
ranged.    I  will  not  shadow  her  life  any  longer.     My  pres- 


256  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

ence  represses  her.     I  seem  to  stand  between  her  and  the 


sun." 


The  man  gazed  about  him  in  a  bhnd  way,  as  if  there  were 
a  veil  before  his  eyes. 

Suddenly  he  added, 

"Did  she  love  any  one  down  there?" 

"  She  did  not  believe  in  love,"  said  Mrs.  Ammidown,  bit- 
terly. "  She  called  herself  one  of  the  cold-blooded  women 
who  have  affection,  but  no  love.  She  had  her  mother's  let- 
ter and  her  own  notions,  and  she  built  up  a  beautiful  little 
code.  There  is  no  mistake  so  fatal  as  the  mistake  which 
makes  a  woman  ignore  the  possibilities  of  her  own  nature." 

"Are  you  sure?"  asked  Mercer  again. 

"  Sure  about  what  ?" 

"  That  she  did  not  love  any  one  down  there  ?" 

The  man  seemed  so  little  like  himself  to  his  sister  as  he 
repeated  this  question  that  she  could  not  help  wincing 
visibly. 

"One  can  never  be  positive  on  such  a  subject,"  was  the 
answer,  "but  I'm  sure  enough  to  satisfy  my  own  mind." 

"That  young  man — that  Boynton,"  went  on  Mercer.  He 
checked  himself.  "  I  know  that  I  am  no  longer  clear,  no 
longer  just,  in  my  conclusions.  .But  to  be  so  hopeless  as  I 
am,  to  be  so  far  from  her  while  I  seem  to  be  so  near  her — 
sometimes  I  am  ready  to  believe  that  she  has  some  memory 
which  stands  between  her  and  me.  Be  sure,  Laura,"  with  a 
flash  of  the  eyes,  "  that  I  am  not  reflecting  upon  her  honor, 
her  entire  high-mindedness." 

"Oh,  I  know  that.  Do  I  not  know  her?"  replied  Mrs. 
Ammidown.  "You  may  be  sure  she  never  loved  Boynton  ; 
she  had  no  fancy  even  for  him,  or  for  any  one." 

The  speaker  refrained  from  saying,  "  I  told  you  so,"  but 
that  phrase  was  in  her  mind.  She  was  asking  herself  indig- 
nantly what  right  any  one  had  to  suppose  that  such  a  mar- 
riage would  turn  out  happily. 

There  was  but  little  more  talk.  Mercer  agreed  to  every- 
thing his  sister  could  suggest  in  his  wife's  behalf.     He  was 


THE    RELAXING   WOMAN  257 

like  a  man  who  stands  by  and  sees  himself  shorn  of  this 
hope  and  that  expectation.  It  was,  however,  but  the  open 
acknowledgment  of  the  despair  he  had  long  felt. 

When  Mrs.  Ammidown  called  that  afternoon  she  found  a 
great  bunch  of  hot-house  roses  on  the  table  near  Temple,  and 
a  basket  of  the  most  extravagant,  out-of-season  fruit. 

"You  have  an  admirer  who  does  not  stint  in  his  offer- 
ings," remarked  the  lady,  somewhat  coldly. 

Temple  smiled.  There  was  a  slight  flush  on  her  face  as 
she  took  up  a  card  and  extended  it  towards  her  guest. 

"Here  is  his  name,"  she  said;  "this  was  among  the 
flowers." 

The  name  was  Richard  Mercer. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  looked  narrowly  at  the  woman  in  the 
lounging-chair.  But  Temple  did  not  seem  conscious  of  this 
inspection.  She  languidly  selected  a  Marshal  Niel  and 
put  her  face  down  to  its  petals ;  then  she  held  it  off  from 
her  and  contemplated  its  beauty. 

She  did  not  seem  much  interested  in  going  to  Miss  Mac- 
Callum's  rooms. 

Miss  MacCallum  was  established  in  a  good  street  at  the 
south  end.  Everything  betokened  prosperity ;  but  Temple 
took  no  notice  of  her  surroundings  as  she  sat  down  in  an 
easy-chair  to  wait.  Miss  MacCallum  had  not  yet  arrived.  For 
some  reason  she  was  late.    An  assistant  had  taken  her  place. 

Three  or  four  women  were  waiting.  One  was  a  young 
girl  who  was  fidgeting  about  the  room,  apparently  unable  to 
keep  still.  She  was  thin  and  white,  with  large  eyes,  whose 
pupils  were  continually  contracting  and  expanding. 

At  last  she  came  and  sat  down  by  Temple. 

"Do  pardon  me,"  she  said,  in  a  fluttering  manner,  "but 
I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  ;  I've  just  longed  to  speak  to  you 
since  I  heard  you  sing  and  pray  at  one  of  your  meetings. 
I  should  have  gone  up  and  spoken  to  you  then,  only  mamma 
wouldn't  let  me.  She  said  'twould  make  me  nervous.  She 
always  says  everything  '11  make  me  nervous.  Are  you  com- 
ing to  Miss  MacCalkim  ?" 
17 


258  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Temple  said  she  thought  of  coming. 

"  Then  I  s'pose  you've  got  nervous  exhaustion,  or  St. 
Vitus,  or  something,"  was  the  girl's  response.  "  Perhaps 
you've  been  emotionalizing  too  much.     Have  you .''" 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Temple. 

"  Oh,  I've  no  doubt  you  have,"  went  on  the  girl,  "  and  you 
haven't  been  normal ;  you  may  think  you  have  been,  but  you 
haven't,  and  she'll  find  it  out.  She's  after  the  abnormal  like 
a  cat  after  a  mouse.  It  pays,  too.  You  see,  she  keeps  a 
Wnd  of  factory  where  she  takes  abnormal  women  and  turns 
them  out  normal." 

Here  the  girl  gave  a  slight  laugh.  Temple  smiled,  and 
said' that  of  course,  then.  Miss  MacCallum  would  naturally 
prefer  to  have  women  abnormal  at  first. 

Whereat  the  girl  laughed  again,  and  responded, 

"  Of  course,  then,  there'd  be  all  the  more  to  turn  into  the 
factory.  She's  just  awfully  clever,  though.  You  wait,  and 
you'll  see.  It's  the  Delsarte  system — at  least,  some  of  it  is. 
And  she  wants  to  do  for  the  nerves  what  ordinary  exercise 
does  for  the  muscles.  She's  got  it  all  down  horribly  fine. 
Mamma  adores  her.  She  says  if  Miss  Mac — I  call  her  Miss 
Mac — doesn't  take  the  kinks  out  of  my  nerves  nobody  can. 
There's  a  lot  of  women  whom  the  doctors  don't  know  what 
to  do  with  ;  medicine's  no  good.  Then  they  make  a  great 
parade  of  sending  them  to  Miss  Mac,  as  if  it  were  their  pre- 
scription, you  see  ;  and  it's  all  good  for  the  relaxing  woman." 

The  girl  fixed  her  eyes  upon  Temple  in  silence  for  an  in- 
stant.    Then  she  said, 

"  You  are  not  relaxed.  You're  not  sitting  so  that  you 
rest.  You're  kind  of  tense,  though  you  look  so  quiet.  That 
never  '11  do.  Miss  Mac  '11  fix  all  that.  There,  I  think  she's 
coming  now.  I'm  going  to  relax.  Watch  and  see  me  do 
it." 

The  girl  flung  herself  in  a  chair  with  the  utmost  abandon 
and  half  closed  her  eyes,  rolling  her  head  slightly. 

Mrs.  Ammidown,  who  had  been  reading  a  magazine  at 
the  end  of  the  room,  looked  up  as  some  one  entered;  then 


THE    RELAXING    WOMAN 


259 


she  rose,  and  the  two  greeted  each  other  with  a  slight  ap- 
pearance of  effusion  on  Miss  MacCallum's  part.  The  new- 
comer was  tall  and  well  knit ;  she  had  sleepy  blue  eyes 
which  yet  probably  perceived  things.  Perhaps  they  were 
not  really  sleepy,  but  only  had  that  appearance,  because 
their  owner  so  deprecated  alertness  and  vividness  of  life  in 
others.  To  be  alert  and  vivid  and  intense  is  a  drain  on 
the  nerves ;  and  all  drain  should  be  avoided. 

In  a  few  moments  Temple  was  sitting  alone  with  Miss 
MacCallum,  and  the  latter  was  asking  her  some  questions. 

Her  first  remark  had  been  to  inform  Temple  that  Dr. 
Ammidown — the  speaker  was  very  particular  in  applying 
titles — had  given  her  no  information  other  than  to  say  that 
Mrs.  Mercer  was  in  danger  of  a  general  break-down  of  the 
nerves. 

"  And  that  is  evident,"  said  Miss  MacCallum. 

Temple  made  no  reply  to  this. 
.  "You  must  pardon  me,"  went  on  the  other,  "if  I  say  that 
you  have  the  appearance  of  being  much  exhausted  by  sham 
emotions.     I  shall  have  to  beg  you  to  avoid  all  such  expe- 


riences." 


Temple  was  looking  full  at  the  speaker. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  she  answered. 

"You  know,"  was  the  response,  "that  there  are  real 
things,  and  that  the  real  things  almost  always  have  imitations. 
It  is  the  imitation  which  exhausts." 

"  Doesn't  the  real  emotion  exhaust  ?" 

"  Only  for  the  time  ;  there  must  be  reaction,  and  then 
comes  invigoration,  like  that  attendant  upon  healthy  exer- 
cise. Generally  speaking,  however,  emotion  should  be 
avoided." 

Miss  MacCallum  went  on  with  a  skilful  and  extremely 
well-put  dissertation  on  the  depleting  power  of  the  emotions 
in  general.  Starting  from  the  standpoint  that  the  highest 
state  of  the  human  being  would  be  that  of  a  sort  of  animal, 
without  any  particular  sensation  or  feeling,  but  with  some 
intellect,  her  argument  was  utterly  convincing. 


26o  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  I  don't  always  talk  as  much  as  this,"  she  said,  in  con- 
clusion, "  but  I  saw  that  you  would  wish  to  know  the  theory 
as  well  as  the  practice." 

Temple  was  silent.  She  had  been  conscious  of  a  rising 
indignation  which  she  had  tried  to  smother. 

Finally  she  said, 

"I  can  understand  perfectly  that  many  limitations  might 
be  necessary  for  one  out  of  health.  One  must  do,  or  refrain 
from  doing,  much  which  would  be  legitimate  in  health.  But 
this  is,  in  a  great  measure,  your  theory  of  life  ?" 

"Yes.  We  are  reasonable  beings.  We  should  live  more 
in  the  clear  light  of  reason,  and  emotion  is,  after  all,  so  large- 
ly a  matter  of  diseased  nerves.  We  think  we  feel ;  it  is 
nerves.  We  think  we  love  ;  it  is  nerves.  In  other  words, 
it  is  sham  emotion.  The  American  woman  is  getting  to  be 
but  a  bundle  of  unstrung  nerves ;  but  she  thinks  she  is  full 
of  feeling ;  she  prides  herself  on  that  belief.  What  we  want 
is  to  be  practical." 

"To  think  of  facts?"  said  Temple,  with  a  stiff  kind  of 
smile. 

"Yes;  and  to  relax.     To  stop  struggling;  to  give  up." 

"I  should  like  to  give  up,"  said  Temple.  "I've  tried  a 
great  deal  to  give  up." 

"  Let  us  stop  trying.  Something  is  making  you  unhappy, 
Mrs.  Mercer ;  but  perhaps,  after  all,  it  will  be  nothing  when 
you  are  well." 

"You  would  call  it  a  sham  unhappiness,  perhaps!*" 

"Very  likely." 

Temple  sat  up  suddenly. 

"  I  don't  believe  one  particle  in  your  theory  of  life,"  she 
said,  warmly ;  "  and  you  have  a  cold  nature  or  you  would 
never  have  embraced  such  a  theory.  To  your  temperament 
such  a  life  may  be  possible,  admirable.  Could  you  but 
know  the  possibilities  open  to  a  different  nature  you  would 
never  talk  thus.  You  think  you  know,  but  you  don't.  Your 
very  attitude  of  mind  proves  your  ignorance.  To  do  as  you 
suggest  would  be  like  following  out  that  old  Eastern  saying: 


THE    RELAXING    WOMAN  261 

'  It  is  better  to  sit  than  to  stand ;  it  is  better  to  lie  down 
than  to  sit ;  it  is  better  to  be  dead  than  alive.'  Miss  Mac- 
Calluni,  we  were  given  powders  of  exquisite  and  intense  life 
— some  of  us  have  been  given  such  powers — are  we  to  stifle 
those  powers  and  try  to  be  as  if  we  did  not  possess  them  ? 
Are  we  to  be  simply  reasonable  beings?  Why,  then,  are  we 
made  so  marvellously  sentient?  And  may  I  ask  if  it  be  in 
your  power  to  decide  what  is  sham  and  what  is  genuine  ?  I 
may  be  so  made  that  I  feel  an  emotion  which  it  would  be 
impossible  for  you  to  feel  from  a  like  cause — are  you,  then, 
to  set  down  my  emotion  as  sham,  as  abnormal  ?  Oh,  don't 
interupt  me,  and  don't  think  me  rude.  I  used  to  believe 
that  I  was  of  a  cold  temperament.  That  was  a  girlish  no- 
tion of  mine,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  a  fine  thing  if  it 
were  true.     But  it  isn't  true.     No  ;  it  isn't  true." 

As  she  finished  speaking,  Temple  rose  from  her  chair  and 
stood  before  her  companion,  who  smiled  and  said, 

"I  needed  no  such  assurance." 

"I  know  that.  I  know,"  went  on  Temple,  more  and  more 
earnestly,  "that  I'm  in  a  wretched  condition  now.  I  want 
you  to  give  me  treatment.  I  long  to  be  able  to  rest — in 
fact,  I  must  rest.     Somehow,  I  must  rest." 

There  was  something  extremely  touching  in  the  slight 
figure,  which  seemed  to  palpitate  with  a  too  insistent  life. 

"  I  am  sure  I  can  help  you,  dear,"  said  Miss  MacCal- 
lum. 

Temple  frowned. 

"Don't  call  me  dear,"  she  said.  "I  hate  those  terms 
when  they  mean  nothing.  Such  use  takes  all  significance 
from  words." 

Miss  MacCallum  did  not  lose  her  temper.  She  smiled 
as  if  she  were  used  to  any  and  every  kind  of  remark,  and 
was  saying  to  herself,  "  Oh,  it  is  only  a  nervous  woman." 

Temple  caught  that  smile,  and  was  still  more  irritated, 
but  she  compelled  herself  to  apologize.  She  hardly  knew 
herself  when  she  was  irritable ;  she  had  always  believed 
she  possessed  an  amiable  temper. 


262  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

After  a  few  more  sentences  in  regard  to  terms  and  hours, 
Temple  went  back  into  the  waiting-room.  The  same  girl 
came  forward  to  meet  her. 

"  What  do  you  think  now  ?"  she  asked,  in  a  half-whisper. 
"  Are  you  going  to  fall  in  love  with  her  ?" 

A  negative  shake  of  the  head  was  the  response. 

"  I  shouldn't,  either,"  went  on  the  girl,  rapidl}^  "  but  my 
doctor  said  the  girls  were  always  falling  in  love  with  Miss 
Mac,  but  that  she  just  stopped  it.  You  know  it's  awfully 
abnormal  to  fall  in  love  with  a  woman — for  a  woman,  I 
mean.  It's  just  the  abnormalest  thing  you  can  do.  Miss 
Mac  is  death  on  it.  She  thinks  it  is  quite  hellish.  Don't  be 
shocked  because  I  say  hellish.  I  often  can't  find  words 
strong  enough  to  express  what  I  mean.  I  fancy  that's  why 
men  swear.     And  don't  ever  tell  mamma  I  said  that." 

The  girl  was  standing  close  beside  Temple,  looking  at 
her  in  a  somewhat  beseeching  way. 

"It  would  be  just  as  easy  as  breathing  to  fall  in  love  with 
you,"  she  said,  "  but  I  know  better  than  to  do  it.  Miss 
Mac  would  be  down  on  me  like  a  stone  house.  She  knows 
a  good  many  things,  still  there  are  a  few  things  she  doesn't 
know.  But  the  devilish  part  of  it  is  that  she  thinks  she 
knows  it  all.  Did  she  tell  j^ou  what  to  do  when  you  are 
wretched  about  anything?" 

"No,"  answered  Temple,  who  was  waiting  for  Mrs.  Am- 
midown  to  return  from  a  call  she  had  started  to  make 
during  the  interview  with  Miss  MacCallum. 

"When  you  are  unhappy  you  must  think  how  heavy  your 
legs  are  ;  and  presently  you'll  find  you  are  happy  again. 
I've  tried  it." 

"  Well  ?"  questioned  Temple,  smiling. 

"  It  didn't  work  in  my  case,  because  I  couldn't  seem  to 
make  my  legs  seem  heavy ;  the  more  I  tried  to  make  them 
heavy  the  lighter  they  grew.  But,  then,  I'm  hopelessly  ab- 
normal, anyway." 

The  girl  stopped  to  laugh,  and  Temple  was  rather  sur- 
prised at  herself  to  find  that  she  joined  heartily  in  with  her. 


THE    RELAXING    WOMAN  263 

There  was  something  shrewd  and  penetrating  in  the  girl's 
face  and  in  her  words,  in  spite  of  her  seeming  frivolity.  She 
was  dressed  with  a  dainty  and  exquisite  plainness,  and  there 
was  about  her  an  air  of  refinement,  notwithstanding  her 
use  of  some  startling  words. 

"  I  suppose  she  called  you  '  Dear,'  "  she  now  remarked. 

"Yes." 

"  Of  course.  She's  sweet  as  honey  in  the  comb.  May- 
be that's  why  some  of  the  girls  fall  in  love  with  her.  I'm 
going  to  blow  my  trumpet  for  her  because  she  certainly  does 
help  a  person  to  rest.  You  see,  when  you've  sat  on  the 
floor  a  few  minutes  and  melted  like  an  ice-cream  in  a  warm 
day,  you  do  feel  like  sleep — you  can't  help  sleeping.  And 
when  she  has  you  roll  like  an  elephant — well,  you'll  see — 
your  nerves  do  have  to  give  in  and  subside.  But  you've 
got  to  be  faithful  and  go  through  the  movements  at  home, 
and  if  you  have  movements  and  walking,  and  watching 
yourself  to  see  that  you  don't  emotionalize,  why,  you  don't 
have  any  time  left.  I'm  going  to  ask  her  to  give  me  a  list 
of  shams  and  genuines  —  emotions,  you  know — so  that  I 
needn't  make  any  mistake.  I  declare,  what  with  bacteria 
for  your  body  and  shams  for  your  feelings,  you  do  feel  as  if 
life  were  hardly  worth  living.  I'm  going  in  now  to  melt. 
If  you  come  here  I  shall  see  you  again.  Won't  you  shake 
hands  with  me .?'' 

Temple  gave  her  hand,  and  a  warm  pressure  with  it. 


XVI 

OLD    MAID    DROWDY's 

Almina  Drowdy  was  standing  in  her  door-yard.  She 
had  put  on  her  dish-brimmed  shade  hat  for  the  first  time 
this  spring.  She  knew  that  it  was  too  early  to  wear  that  hat, 
but  she  said  that  somehow  it  seemed  to  bring  the  warm  days 
nearer  if  she  brought  the  old  thing  down  from  under  the 
eaves.  It  made  her  feel  as  if  the  violets  were  actually 
coming. 

In  Hoyt,  Mass.,  it  often  seemed  to  the  impatient  resident 
that  spring  never  would  actually  arrive. 

Mr.  Wilson  had  ploughed  up  a  patch  of  land  on  a  south 
slope  for  early  pease.  That  ploughing  was  an  encourage- 
ment to  Almina.  She  decided  that  if  Brother  Wilson  could 
plough  she  could  leave  off  her  white  cloud  and  resume  her 
hat. 

She  was  expecting  Mr.  Wilson  now.  He  was  going  to 
bring  Freddy  to  spend  the  day  with  his  aunt.  He  would 
necessarily  bring  him  early,  for  he  would  be  on  his  way  to 
the  next  town  with  eggs  and  milk. 

Freddy  had  grown  in  the  three  years  that  had  elapsed 
since  Almina  had  gone  to  North  Carolina,  She  had  left 
him  making  perilous,  tottering  journeys  across  the  kitchen 
floor,  and  occasionally  swallowing  shoe-buttons. 

Freddy  had  set  up  a  dog — a  young  bull-dog  that  squinted 
and  that  made  charges  at  people's  ankles  in  the  most  fero- 
cious way,  but  who  would  not  have  bitten  any  one  upon  any 
provocation.  Only  the  people  upon  whom  he  charged  did 
not  always  know  this  ;  and  this  ignorance  caused  a  great 
deal  of  unpleasantness  in  the  hearts  of  some  of  Freddy's  ac- 


OLD    MAID    DROWDY  S  265 

quaintance.  Indeed,  that  acquaintance  threatened  to  nar- 
row down  to  those  who  would  submit  to  having  their  ankles 
mumbled  by  the  puppy.  Those  who  would  not  submit,  Freddy 
unhesitatingly  called  "darn  fools." 

Freddy's  mother  thought  that  a  person  must  be  extremely 
mean  who  was  irritated  when  a  cunning  little  boy  like  Fred- 
dy called  him  a  "  darn  fool."  And  as  for  being  afraid  of  a 
bull-dog  puppy — 

Here  Mrs.  Wilson  would  toss  her  head  and  leave  the  sen- 
tence unfinished. 

Almina  once  told  her  sister  that  the  world  seemed  to  be 
divided  into  two  classes — those  who  were  friends  with  Fred- 
dy's puppy  and  those  who  were  not ;  and  Olivia  judged  every- 
body with  reference  to  their  standing  with  Jefferson,  for  the 
dog's  name  was  Jefferson,  usually  called  "Jeff." 

Almina,  as  she  stood  in  the  yard  on  this  April  morning, 
was  conscious  of  a  decided  wish  that  Jefferson  would  not 
come — not  that  she  was  afraid  of  him,  but  that  it  was  usually 
impossible  to  watch  him  closely  enough  to  prevent  his  chew- 
ing some  valuable  article. 

The  last  time  Jefferson  visited  her,  accompanied  by  his 
young  master,  he  had  chewed  and  swallowed  the  whole 
vamp  of  one  of  her  best  boots. 

She  had  not  expected  the  boy  to  be  sorry,  but  she  had 
been  tried  when  the  boy's  mother's  only  remark  in  the  case 
had  been, 

"  I  want  to  know  !     Wall,  Jeff  is  dretful  fond  of  leather." 

A  pair  of  bluebirds  circled  down  into  the  yard  as  Almina 
stood  there.  They  called  to  her — or  was  it  to  each  other.'' 
— and  the  woman's  heart  swelled  joyfully. 

The  frogs  were  peeping  in  the  meadows. 

Almina  turned  her  face  upward.     She  spoke  aloud. 

"There  certainly  is  a  look  in  the  sky — there  certainly  is 
a  look,"  she  said. 

She  went  into  the  house  and  brought  out  a  shawl.  This 
she  wrapped  about  her,  and  began  walking  briskly  back  and 
forth  in  the  yard,  for  it  was  chilly,  in  spite  of  the  soft  sky. 


266  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Almina  poked  the  toe  of  her  "rubber"  into  the  black 
mould  around  the  peony  root.  A  red  tip  would  soon  show 
itself.  She  had  found  saxifrage  among  the  rocks  at  the 
south  of  the  house  the  day  before. 

When  her  eyes  swept  over  the  country,  however,  the  hills 
and  valleys — they  were  hills  and  valleys  in  smallest  minia- 
ture—  were  still  bare  and  brown  and  desolate.  But  she 
knew  a  bit  of  swamp-land  where  skunk-cabbage  was  already 
green  and  flourishing. 

As  her  eyes,  in  their  cursory  glance,  rested  upon  a  cart- 
path  that  wound  over  the  pasture  in  front  of  the  house,  she 
made  a  quick  step  forward,  then  paused,  gazing  with  distrust- 
ful air,  as  if  she  could  not  believe  what  her  eyes  told  her. 

"  Merciful  sakes  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  d'  know  but  I'm  git- 
tin'  so  old  I  can't  see  straight." 

There  was  a  note  of  strong  excitement  in  her  voice.  She 
ran  across  the  road  and  to  the  bars  of  the  fence ;  these  she 
let  down  with  trembling  hands  j  then  she  stood  still  in  the 
opening. 

A  white  pony  was  coming  at  a  leisurely  amble  along  the 
rough  way.  He  did  not  seem  to  mind  that  it  was  rough,  but 
came  as  one  used  to  uneven  roads. 

His  intelligent  face,  with  its  ears  at  full  cock,  was  towards 
her. 

On  the  animal's  back  was  a  tall,  stalwart  woman  of  a 
dusky  countenance.  This  -woman  began  to  smile  broadly, 
her  white  teeth  shining.     She  threw  up  her  hand. 

"  I  reckon  it's  you,  miss  !"  she  called  out.  "  Howdy,  Miss 
Drowdy .?" 

Instead  of  responding  to  this  greeting  Almina  said,  help- 
lessly, 

"  Oh,  good  land  !  I  can't  b'lieve  my  senses  !" 

By  this  time  the  pony  had  brought  Sally  nearly  up  to  the 
bars ;  and  now  he  stopped  his  amble  and  walked  forward, 
his  slender  legs  looking  just  as  much  like  "  injy  rubber  "  as 
they  had  always  looked  to  this  Yankee  woman. 

Sally  continued  to  grin. 


OLD    MAID    DROWDY  S  267 

"We've  done  brought  roun'  hyar,"  she  remarked. 

"What!"  cried  Almina,  "you  'ain't  come  up  from  North 
Carliny  on  that  pony,  have  you  ?" 

Sally  laughed.  The  rich,  throaty  sound  seemed  quite  out 
of  place  opposite  that  strictly  New  England  house,  and  in 
the  hearing  of  that  strictly  New  England  woman. 

"  Bress  yo'  heart,  honey,"  she  answered,  "  of  co'se  I  ain't. 
I'se  jest  curm  urp  fum  de  deepo-house,  AVe  uns  curm  in  de 
kyars,  we  uns  did.  Thimble's  awful  scraped  'n'  rubbed  on 
his  laigs.  But  he  kep'  urp  er  good  heart  all  de  way,  he  did. 
'Fore  de  Lawd,  I  reckon  de  pony  knew  he  war  comin'  ter 
Miss  Temple.  He  knew  all  de  same's  I  knew.  Dem  kyars 
is  jest  a  hell  upon  yarth  ;  but  I'd  come  all  trew  hell  ter  git 
ter  Miss  Temple.  Reckon  by  your  s'prise,  Miss  Drowdy,  as 
Miss  Temple  'ain't  got  yere  yet  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Almina.  She  still  stood  directly  in  the  way, 
and  the  pony's  white  face  was  within  a  yard  of  her  own 
face. 

"Of  co'se,"  said  Sally,  "dey  must  of  wrote." 

"  I  'ain't  got  no  letter,"  was  the  response. 

Then  Almina  tried  to  rouse  herself. 

She  stepped  back,  and  the  pony  put  himself  over  the 
dropped  bars  with  a  little  jump,  plainly  assuming  that  a 
jump  was  the  easiest  way  to  get  over,  and  showing  in  every 
slightest  movement  that  he  was  not  in  the  least  like  any 
Northern  horse. 

"  Won't  you  walk  in  V  said  Almina. 

She  instantly  corrected  herself. 

"  I  mean,  come  right  over  to  the  house.  I'm  real  glad  to 
see  ye,  though  I'm  so  'stonished  I  can't  collect  my  wits. 
'N'  we'll  put  the  pony  in  the  barn,  'n'  fodder  him.  He  looks 
kinder  used  up,  'n'  that's  a  fact." 

As  she  talked,  Almina  was  gathering  her  senses,  which 
seemed  far  afield. 

She  turned  and  retraced  her  steps  across  the  road. 

She  was  surprised  that  she  should  feel  so  decided  a  pleas- 
ure at  sight  of  this  yellow  woman.  • 


268  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

To  see  Sally  was  like  having  back  again  a  bit  of  that 
strange  life  in  the  Carolina  mountains. 

Almina  had  been  glad  to  get  home,  but  a  hundred  times 
since  her  return  she  had  suddenly  caught  herself  wishing  for 
one  day  among  those  mountains — one  day  of  the  strange,  un- 
conventional life. 

And  she  had  longed  to  see  Temple.  She  could  not  tell 
why  she  so  desired  to  see  that  girl.  Of  course,  a  proper 
amount  of  longing  would  be  strictly  the  right  thing,  but 
sometimes  she  had  felt  like  crying  out  for  a  glimpse  of  that 
young,  strong  face,  with  its  signs  of  superabundant  life  and 
emotion. 

On  one  occasion,  in  an  expansive  mood,  after  a  cup  of  tea 
with  Mrs.  Wilson,  she  had  confided  to  her  sister  this  feeling 
she  had  about  that  girl. 

"  I  d'  know  how  'tis,"  said  Almina,  "but  she  ain't  a  grain 
like  common  girls.  I  have  spells  of  bein'  actually  hungry 
and  thirsty  for  a  sight  of  her.  She  was  like  sunshine  'n' 
fresh  air ;  'n'  then,  again,  she  was  like  some  nights  when 
there  ain't  no  moon,  'n'  the  stars  shine,  'n'  the  air  is  jest  as 
full  of  sw^eet  smells—" 

"  Alminy,"  her  sister  had  interrupted  her,  sharply,  "  I  guess 
you'd  better  stop  talkin'.  I'm  glad  there  ain't  no  one  but 
me  to  hear  such  talk.  1  know  what  folks  would  say.  Jest 
to  think  of  a  human  bein'  that  was  like  a  night  when  there 
ain't  no  moon,  'n'  all  that  stuff!  I  declare  you  do  put  me 
out  of  patience,  Alminy  !  But  you  always  was  odd.  'Mem- 
ber that  time  when  you  wouldn't  marry  the  doctor  .?  I  wish 
you'd  pass  me  the  sugar." 

Almina  passed  the  sugar  and  smiled  to  herself  as  she 
did  so.  She  was  thinking  that  Freddy's  mother,  even  though 
she  had  Freddy,  yet  lacked  some  resources  which  she,  the 
old  maid,  possessed,  and  of  which  no  one  could  deprive  her. 

"What  made  you  come  by  that  cart-path.?" 

Almina  put  this  trivial  question  as  she  stopped  at  the 
barn  door  and  took  the  padlock  from  the  staple,  preparatory 
to  rolling  the  door  back. 


OLD    MAID    DROWDY  S  269 

Sally  was  pulling  her  foot  from  the  stirrup.  She  replied 
that  she  done  couldn't  tell  why,  "  'less  'twas  'cos  a  man  told 
her  de  path  war  er  short  curt  to  old  maid  Drowdy's." 

Here  she  rolled  her  eyes  towards  Almina,  who  laughed 
slightly.  She  had  hardly  heard  the  answer,  for  she  was 
wondering  how  it  happened  that  she  was  so  pleased  to  hear 
that  negro  voice  and  that  mixture  of  dialect  which  Sally 
used.  Almina  could  not  remember  that  she  had  particularly 
cared  for  it  when  she  was  in  Carolina. 

The  two  women  went  into  the  barn.  Sally's  fingers  at- 
tacked the  buckles  and  straps  of  the  saddle. 

The  pony  reached  his  head  up  towards  the  hayloft,  from 
which  dangled  a  few  spears  of  hay. 

"  Mr.  Wilson  gits  in  my  grass,"  remarked  Almina.  "  Sence 
I  got  home  from  Caroliny  I  'ain't  kep'  a  cow;  but  I've  got 
meal  'n'  shorts  I  have  for  my  hens  'n'  pig." 

"  Where  is  Temple  now  ?" 

"  Laws !  how  'd  I  know }  I  done  thought  I'd  find  her 
hyar.  She  ben  preachin'  'n'  prayin'  trew  de  land  fur  de 
Lawd.     She  ben  up  Norf  hyar." 

"  Has  she  ?" 

"Yas'm." 

"  Is  her  work  blessed  ?" 

"  Powerful,"  with  unction,  "so  dey  say.  De  Lawd  sends 
His  Sperrit  right  down." 

The  yellow  woman  flung  the  saddle  on  the  floor.  She 
pulled  Thimble's  bridle  over  his  ears  and  dropped  that  on 
the  saddle. 

Then  she  suddenly  sat  herself  flat  on  the  floor  and  began 
to  sob  loudly,  and  rock  herself  to  and  fro. 

Almina,  inexpressively  distressed,  gazed  blankly  at  her. 
She  was  running  over  in  her  mind  all  the  restoratives  she 
had  in  the  house. 

Naturally  she  thought  of  red  lavender,  but  for  some  rea- 
son this  remedy  did  not  seem  appropriate  for  a  tall  yellow 
woman  who  was  swaying  like  that. 

"Oh,  Lawd   Gawd  Almighty!"  cried  Sally,  "I  jes'  want 


270  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Miss  Temple !  I  jes'  want  my  Miss  Temple  !  She  mus' 
be  daid  !     She  mus'  shorely  be  daid  !" 

Almina  took  hold  of  Sally's  arm  and  shook  it. 

"  Stop  !"  she  said,  sharply. 

But  Sally  did  not  stop.  She  went  on  worse  and  worse. 
Her  voice  sounded  out  from  the  barn  and  along  the  road. 

Sally  was  tired  and  hungry  and  bewildered.  She  was 
also  much  disappointed  to  find  that  Temple  was  not  there. 
She  had  fully  expected  to  find  her.  And  she  was  deathly 
homesick.  The  more  homesick  she  felt  the  louder  she 
shouted  her  calls  upon  "Gawd  Almighty."  And  she 
slapped  the  palms  of  her  hands  together  almost  as  if  she 
had  "  the  power  "  upon  her. 

Almina  was  at  her  wit's  end.  She  caught  up  a  barrel 
cover  and  tried  to  fan  Sally.  She  dropped  the  cover  and 
began  to  pound  her  on  the  back  as  if  she  were  choking. 

Meantime,  the  pony  was  sauntering  about  as  well  as  he 
could  in  the  small  space,  occasionally  finding  a  grarin  of  corn 
or  oats  among  the  chaff  on  the  floor. 

In  the  midst  of  this  a  sharp,  high  voice  cried  out, 

"  Par !  par  !  Jes'  come  here  'n'  see  what  auntie's  got ! 
Jes'  come  !     Par  !  I  say  !" 

A  small  figure  in  a  gray  suit,  with  a  cap  on  the  back  of 
its  head,  and  with  a  good  deal  of  red,  knitted  scarf  about  its 
neck,  was  standing  in  the  doorway.  This  boy  held  a  chain 
in  one  hand,  and  there  was  a  bull-dog  at  the  other  end  of 
the  chain. 

The  dog  now  lurched  forward  and  tugged  at  his  chain 
towards  Sally,  who  minded  this  arrival  not  a  whit,  and  who 
continued  to  call  upon  God,  and  to  assert  that  her  Miss 
Temple  "  mus'  be  daid." 

Little  Freddy  jumped  up  and  down  in  his  enjoyment  of 
this  unexpected  entertainment. 

"  St',  boy  !"  he  cried,  and  let  go  the  chain. 

Thus  released,  at  the  moment  of  his  utmost  strain,  Jeffer- 
son landed  with  some  force  in  Sally's  lap. 

Sally  stopped  shouting  instantly.     She  took  Jefferson  by 


\     OLD    MAID    DROWDY's  27 1 


the  loose  skin  on  his  neck  and  flung  him  back  towards  his 
master,  who  was  still  jumping  up  and  down  and  crying  on 
his  "par"  to  "come  'n'  see  what  auntie 'd  got." 

Almina  advanced  towards  her  nephew  and  boxed  his  ears 
with  great  firmness.  That  was  one  thing  she  could  do — she 
could  box  Freddy's  ears. 

The  action  restored  her  somewhat  to  herself.  She  began 
to  have  a  glimmering  perception  that  Sally  had  been  going 
on  in  that  manner  simply  because  it  was  her  way  to  do  so  if 
she  happened  to  feel  so  inclined. 

"I  guess,"  she  said,  dryly,  to  Sally,  "that  if  you  jes'  as 
lieves  stop  hollering,  we'll  go  into  the  house  'n'  I'll  git  you 
something  to  eat." 

Sally  rose  and  shook  herself.  She  was  in  no  way  abashed, 
as  why  should  she  be  ? 

Almina  turned  towards  the  house.  She  met  her  brother- 
in-law  driving  into  the  yard.  He  had  gone  on  a  few  rods, 
but  had  then  decided  that  the  noise  he  heard  was  not  all 
made  by  his  son,  and  that  it  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  learn 
what  it  was  that  did  make  it. 

"Wall,  Alminy,"  he  said,  "  what  kind  of  a  circus  have  ye 
got  here  ?" 

He  nodded  towards  Sally,  who  stood  up,  tall  and  straight, 
not  showing  now  the  least  symptoms  of  her  late  excitement. 

"  She  come  from  Caroliny,"  was  the  answer. 

"  I  thought  she  didn't  look  much  like  a  Massachusetts 
person,"  was  the  response,  with  some  pride  in  the  fact. 

Mr.  Wilson  had  grown  rather  stout  within  the  last  few 
years.  He  did  not  like  to  climb  in  and  out  of  his  wagon 
unless  this  act  seemed  strictly  necessary. 

But  he  carefully  placed  the  lines  about  the  dashboard,  and 
laboriously  went  through  the  process  of  leaving  his  wagon 
and  reaching  the  ground. 

He  came  forward  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  Sally,  who  now 
stood  just  behind  Almina. 

Sally  had  a  red  handkerchief  twisted  turbanwise  about  her 
head,  and  an  old  straw  hat  on  top  of  that.     She  wore  a  blue 


272  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

shawl,  crossed  in  front  of  her  broad  chest,  with  the  ends 
tied  behind.  Her  skirt  was  short,  revealing  her  heavy 
boots,  which  still  retained  upon  them  a  goodly  quantity  of  the 
yellow  mud  from  the  "  State  road  "  of  North  Carolina. 

As  Mr.  Wilson  gazed  at  her  a  feeling  of  admiration  for 
this  magnificent  physique  stirred  and  grew  within  him. 

"By  George!"  he  said  to  his  wife  later,  "I  ain't  never 
seen  no  such  critter  's  that  before.  Somehow  she  made  me 
think  of  something,  I  can't  remember  what,  that  I'd  read 
about  some  time  or  other." 

"  She's  jest  up  from  Caroliny,"  said  Almina,  not  recalling 
that  she  had  already  made  that  statement. 

Here  Sally  went  through  a  kind  of  motion  which  consisted 
of  bending  of  the  knees  and  bobbing  of  the  head. 

"  How  de  do  .'"'  said  Mr.  Wilson,  favorably. 

Here  another  individual  joined  the  group. 

It  was  Thimble,  who,  having  exhausted  the  small  area  of 
the  barn,  now  came  forward,  followed  with  extreme  close- 
ness by  Freddy,  who  in  turn  was  followed  by  Jefferson. 

Mr.  Wilson  eyed  this  procession  intently.  He  was  think- 
ing that  he  did  not  w^onder  that  Freddy  had  called  upon 
him  to  come  back  and  see  what  aunty  'd  got. 

Mr.  Wilson  thought  he  knew  about  horses,  but  he  had 
never  seen  one  like  this ;  never  one  with  a  head  and  face 
so  intelligent,  nor  with  a  form  so  peculiar. 

The  pony  paused  and  regarded  this  man,  who  was  think- 
ing, as  Almina  had  thought,  that  the  animal  seemed  made 
of  "injy  rubber."  His  legs  had  to  the  last  degree  an  ap- 
pearance of  suppleness.  Now,  as  he  stood,  his  front  feet 
were  close  together,  and  his  hind-legs,  from  the  hocks  down, 
slanted  out  somewhat,  his  whole  appearance  favoring  the  con- 
clusion that  he  could  double  himself  up,  and  could  leap  as 
well  as  run. 

Freddy  ran  up  alongside  and  put  his  hand  on  the  pony's 
chest. 

"Par,"  he  cried  out,  "I  want  this  little  horse!  You  git 
this  little  horse  for  me  !     You  swap  your'n  for  him,  par !" 


OLD    MAID    DROWDYS  273 

"By  George!"  cried  Mr.  Wilson. 

Then  he  turned  to  Sally. 

"  D'  you  come  up  from  Caroliny  on  that  critter,  Miss — 
Miss—" 

"We  call  her  jest  Sally,"  interposed  Almina,  who  did  not 
know  why  it  seemed  so  entirely  incongruous  to  apply  such  a 
title  to  the  yellow  woman.  She  felt  a  sense  of  shame  for  her 
brother-in-law's  ignorance. 

"  I  curm  in  de  kyars,"'  answered  Sally,  with  a  grave  as- 
pect of  deep  respect. 

"Par,"  said  Freddy,  "you  swap  your'n  for  him!  Swap 
your'n,  I  tell  ye  !" 

Mr.  Wilson  made  no  reply  to  this  command  of  his  son. 
He  walked  up  to  Thimble  and  punched  his  ribs.  In  instant 
response  the  pony  drew  up  one  hind-leg  as  if  with  ferocious 
intent  to  kick;  then  he  slowly  lowered  the  leg,  turned  his 
head,  and  nipped  at  the  man's  hand. 

"Curious  critter!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Wilson.  "What  3'ou 
harness  him  into  ?" 

"  Dere  ain't  no  gears  ever  touched  him,"  said  Sally, 
proudly.     "  He's  jes'  fur  my  Miss  Temple  ter  ride." 

Mr.  Wilson  had  now  opened  the  pony's  mouth  and  was 
gazing  into  it. 

"  'Bout  ten,"  he  remarked. 

Freddy  jumped  up  and  down. 

"  Swap  your'n,  par  !"  he  cried. 

"I  guess,  Sally,"  said  Almina,  "we'll  go  right  in.  The 
teakittle's  boilin'.     'Twon't  take  no  time  to  git  ye  a  lunch." 

Sally  followed  her  hostess  into  the  house,  leaving  father 
and  son  and  pony  and  dog  in  the  yard. 

Sally  sat  down  in  the  first  chair,  and  leaned  her  elbows 
on  her  knees.  Almina,  for  the  first  time,  noticed  how  hag- 
gard she  looked. 

"  I  jes'  carn't  git  over  hit — 'bout  Miss  Temple  not  bein' 
hyar,"  she  said.  "  I  done  reckon  she's  sick.  She's  be'n 
convertin'  too  powerful.  She  carn't  stan'  such  powerful  lot 
er  de  Lawd's  power." 


274  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Almina,  going  hurriedly  into  the  buttery,  heard  these 
words.  She  wanted  to  ask  after  Mr.  Mercer,  but  she  would 
not. 

Mr.  Mercer,  being  a  minister,  would  naturally  do  what 
was  right.  If  Temple  was  overworked  he  would  see  that  she 
rested. 

While  Sally  was  eating,  which  she  insisted  upon  doing  in 
the  chair  where  she  was,  and  not  at  the  table,  holding  her 
bread  in  one  hand  and  her  cold  meat  in  the  other,  Mr. 
Wilson  came  in. 

There  entered  with  him  Freddy  and  Freddy's  dog.  But 
the  boy,  unable  to  remain  away  from  the  pony,  immediately 
returned  to  him. 

Mr.  Wilson  declined  a  chair  offered  him  by  his  sister-in- 
law. 

"  I  guess  I  better  not  stop,"  he  said.  "  I  just  found  a  letter 
in  this  pocket,  Alminy.  It's  for  you.  I  rec'lect  now  I  got 
it  last  week,  when  I  went  to  the  village.  I  ain't  had  on  this 
coat  sense." 

He  tossed  the  envelope  on  the  table  as  if  it  were  of  no 
consequence,  but  as  if  he  had  now  unburdened  himself  of 
that  errand, 

Almina  took  the  letter  eagerly,  her  face  flushing. 

"  I  done  tole  yo'  so,"  said  the  yellow  woman. 

Mr.  Wilson  stood  a  few  moments  longer,  his  interest  in 
this  new-comer  evidently  holding  him  as  with  cords. 

When  he  had  gone  Almina  opened  the  envelope. 

She  had  heard  twice  from  Temple  since  she  had  left  Car- 
olina, but  not  within  a  year,  and  she  had  not  expected  ever 
to  hear  again. 

All  this  phase  of  Almina's  experience  seemed  entirely  to 
have  dropped  out  of  her  life.  And  here  it  was  suddenly 
and  vividly  recalled,  and  she  was  asked  to  take  up  the 
threads  again. 

This  was  not  Temple's  writing.  Almina's  hand  trembled 
a  little  as  she  turned  the  sheet.  The  name  signed  was 
Laura  Ammidown. 


OLD    MAID    DROWDY  S  275 

"  My  dear  Miss  Drowdy, — I  know  you  will  remember  Temple 
Crawford,  and  that  she  married  my  brother.  The  two  went  on  a  cru- 
sade to  save  souls.  Temple  is  now  suffering  from  a  break-down  of 
nerves  in  consequence  of  too  much  strain  put  upon  them. 

"  She  desires  strongly  to  go  to  you,  to  stay  for  a  while  in  your  home 
in  quiet.  She  liked  you.  I  have  promised  to  ask  if  she  may  come.  I 
don't  know  how  you  are  situated,  but  I  cannot  put  it  to  you  strongly 
enough  that  you  must  take  her  if  you  can.  She  depends  upon  spending 
this  coming  summer  with  you.  She  refuses  to  go  back  to  the  moun- 
tains; she  will  not  go  abroad.  I  will  send  Sally  to  you;  she  will  work, 
and  will  take  care  of  Temple. 

"It  is  necessary  that  this  arrangement  be  made  almost  immediately. 
If  I  don't  hear  from  you  by  the  loth  inst.  I  shall  consider  that  you  con- 
sent. Temple  will  be  glad  to  pay  you  well  for  the  trouble  she  will 
cause  you.  She  insists,  however,  upon  my  saying  to  you  that  she  knows 
you  would  be  willing  to  take  her  without  pay,  if  you  can  take  her  at  all, 

"  She  has  this  wish  to  go  to  you  so  much  at  heart  that  I  dare  not 
think  of  her  disappointment  if  you  find  it  impossible  to  have  her  with 
you.     Sincerely  yours, 

"  Laura  Ammidown." 

Almina's  glasses  had  fallen  two  or  three  times  during  the 
reading  of  this  note.  She  was  becoming  more  and  more 
excited.  She  was  aware  that  she  had  not  before  been  ex- 
cited since  she  had  come  home  from  Carolina. 

She  found  it  impossible  to  think  of  Temple  as  other- 
wise than  strong  and  active,  full  of  a  life  that  was  life-giv- 
ing to  others.  As  she  said  to  herself,  she  "couldn't  sense 
it." 

She  was  well  aware  that  her  sister  would  oppose  her ;  but 
then  her  sister  Wilson  usually  acted  upon  the  general  grounds 
that  "  Alminy  hadn't  got  common-sense." 

Almina  leaned  her  shaking  hand  on  the  table.  She  did 
not  know  that  Sally  was  watching  her  over  the  top  of  the 
teacup  out  of  which  she  was  drinking. 

"  I  d'  know  nothin'  'bout  how  I  shall  git  ready  for  her,"  said 
Almina.  "  I  sh'll  give  her  the  south  front  room — the  sun 
lays  in  there — ^'n'  of  course  she  c'n  have  the  run  of  the  house. 
I  always  did  take  to  Temple.  I  do  wish  I  had  something 
cooked  up." 


276  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  Oh,  laws  !  Miss  Drowdy,  yo'  jes'  lemme  put  my  hand  to 
thur  plough." 

Sally  rose,  set  down  her  empty  cup,  and  stretched  out  her 
great  hand. 

"  What  'm  I  hyar  fur  ?"  she  asked. 

Just  then  a  shrill  shriek  from  the  yard  startled  Almina. 
She  sprang  to  the  window. 

She  beheld  Freddy  lying  on  his  stomach  upon  the  damp 
ground.  His  arms  were  spread  out,  and  his  dear  little  feet 
were  kicking  into  the  sod  as  fast  as  they  could  go,  as  scream 
after  scream  broke  from  him. 

Mr.  Wilson  had  mounted  into  his  wagon,  and  was  gazing 
with  distressed  face  at  his  prostrate  son.  The  man  was 
thinking  of  climbing  out  again,  but  it  was  easier  to  think  of 
doing  this  than  it  was  for  a  person  of  his  size  to  perform  the 
act. 

Almina  ran  out-of-doors.  The  pony  had  found  a  tuft  of 
dried  grass  which  seemed  to  his  taste,  and  was  nibbling  upon 
that. 

"  Is  it  a  fit  ?"  she  cried. 

She  bent  and  tried  to  lift  her  little  nephew ;  but  her  little 
nephew  stiffened  himself  and  would  not  be  lifted. 

"  Swap  him,  par  !"  he  shouted. 

"  I  guess  'tain't  no  fit,"  said  Mr.  Wilson. 

Freddy's  feet  went  faster. 

"  I  want  the  pony  !  Mar  'd  git  me  the  pony !"  he  now  pro- 
claimed.    "  Mar  'd  git  it !" 

"  He  wants  me  to  swap  my  hoss  for  that  pony,"  explained 
Mr.  Wilson  with  some  pride  in  his  manner,  as  if  not  many 
boys  would  have  been  bright  enough  to  make  this  demand. 

Freddy  again  ordered  the  swap  to  be  made,  but  his  voice 
was  now  interrupted  by  a  croupy  cough,  which  stimulated 
Almina  to  try  once  more  to  raise  the  child  from  his  recum- 
bent position. 

"Yo'jes'  step  back,  miss,"  said  Sally,  gently  pushing  Al- 
mina one  side. 

The  yellow  woman  stooped  and  took  the  boy  in  her  arms. 


OLD    MAID    DROWDY  S  277 

She  walked  with  him  to  his  father's  wagon,  Freddy  keeping 
himself  all  the  time  quite  rigid,  his  only  movement  being  a 
surreptitious  attempt  to  pinch  Sally's  arm. 

He  was  deposited  on  the  floor  of  the  vehicle. 

The  instant  he  touched  that  floor  he  became  as  limber  as 
a  boy  can  be,  which  we  all  know  is  limber  enough.  He 
scrambled  over  on  to  the  seat  by  his  father. 

"  Darned  old  fool !"  he  said,  breathlessly,  looking  at  Sally, 
who  laughed  broadly  at  him. 

This  laugh  but  infuriated  Freddy  still  more.  He  stood 
up  and  violently  kicked  out  his  small  foot  incased  in  its  small 
rubber. 

Then  he  began  to  cough  more  croupily  than  before. 

At  this  point  his  father  grappled  with  him.  He  flung  the 
horse -blanket  about  him,  having  a  keen  fear  that  Freddy 
might  be  capable  of  developing  an  attack  of  the  croup  on 
the  spot. 

With  one  hand  holding  his  son  pinioned  in  the  blanket, 
Mr.  Wilson  shook  the  reins  in  his  other  hand,  and  the  horse 
began  to  walk  out  of  the  yard. 

Jefferson,  accidentally  shut  in  the  house,  now  yapped  per- 
emptorily to  be  let  loose.  Being  released,  he  flew  furiously 
after  his  master. 

Almina  said  she  felt  "jest  like  cryin'.  She  knew  her 
sister  'd  blame  it  all  on  her.  'N'  if  Freddy  should  have  the 
croup  'n'  die,  Freddy's  mother  'd  never  forgive  her." 

"Laws,  honey!"  remarked  Sally,  "dat  boy  ain't  de  kind 
as  dies.  He'll  live,  he  will ;  he'll  grow  up  to  be  a  man  an' 
he'll  hab  a  wife,  an'  he'll  torment  her  to  def." 

And  the  yellow  woman  laughed  again. 

Almina  tried  to  be  cheered.  She  promised  herself  that 
she  would  go  over  to  her  sister's  before  she  went  to  bed,  and 
see  how  Freddy  had  borne  the  storm  and  stress  of  that  half- 
hour  after  he  had  seen  the  pony. 

The  two  women  went  back  into  the  house.  Almina 
stopped  at  the  door  to  advise  Sally  to  put  Thimble  in  the 
barn,  but   Sally  replied  that  the  pony  was  used   to   being 


278  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

loose,  and  that  he  would  "  take  care  of  his'ef."  Neverthe- 
less, she  fed  him. 

Then  Almina  went  into  the  "  south  room  "  and  began  to 
take  everything  out  of  it,  so  that  she  might  give  the  whole 
apartment  what  she  called  a  "good  goin'  over." 

As  she  did  not  know  when  to  expect  Temple,  she  ran  to 
the  window  every  time  she  heard  the  sound  of  wheels,  and 
she  was  soon,  as  she  acknowledged,  "  as  nervous  as  a  witch." 

Sally,  cheered  and  invigorated  by  food  and  drink,  now 
thought  that  it  was  highly  probable  that  "  Miss  Temple 
wasn't  daid  at  all."  She  helped  Almina.  She  carried  out 
a  roll  of  carpet  on  her  head,  a  thing  that  was  never  before 
done  in  Hoyt. 

Unfortunately  she  was  seen  in  the  act  by  Mrs.  Newton, 
from  the  other  neighborhood,  who  was  at  that  moment  driv- 
ing by  in  the  Goddard  buggy  which  had  belonged  to  the 
Newtons  for  as  long  a  time  as  Goddard  buggies  had  been 
made. 

Mrs.  Newton's  horse  was  walking,  because  it  always 
walked  when  it  was  not  standing  still  or  trying  to  roll  over 
in  the  pasture. 

Mrs.  Newton  was  very  thin  and  long-waisted,  so  that  when 
she  tried  to  lean  out  of  her  buggy  to  see  what  was  going  on 
she  could  lean  out  a  great  ways,  and  consequently  could  see 
a  great  deal. 

She  now  saw  Sally  appear  with  the  carpet  on  her  head, 
and  fling  her  burden  on  the  ground  in  the  front  yard. 

The  sight  was  one  as  astounding  as  if  "  an  earthquake 
had  swallowed  her  up,"  as  Mrs.  Newton  said  the  next  day  in 
every  house  within  reach  of  a  walking  horse. 

Almina,  who  was  wiping  off  the  south-room  looking-glass, 
heard  a  voice  say, 

"Whoa!" 

As  she  knew  the  voice,  her  heart  sank  ;  but  she  was  aware 
that  it  would  in  no  wise  serve  her  to  delay.  Therefore,  she 
appeared  immediately  at  the  open  front  door,  with  the  look- 
ing-glass in  her  hand. 


OLD    MAID    DROWDY's  27g 

"  How  de  do,  Mis'  Newton  ?  Do  come  in  'n'  se'  down  a 
spell,"  she  said ;  and  felt  like  a  false  villain,  because  in  her 
secret  soul  she  wished  to  tell  that  woman  in  the  buggy  to 
go  along  and  mind  her  own  business. 


XVII 
"a  man  may  be  a  fool  once  in  his  life" 

"  No,  I  guess  I  can't  git  out,"  said  Mrs.  Newton,  with  her 
eyes  fixed  on  Sally,  who  was  shaking  the  carpet  in  great 
billows.  "  Was  goin'  by,  'n'  I  thought  I'd  jest  haul  up. 
Ain't  you  begun  to  clean  house  ruther  early  ?  The  flies 
ain't  hardly  come  yet.  I  tell  um  if  I  git  my  house  cleaned 
fore  fly-time  it's  early  enough." 

*'I  thought  I'd  clean  up  the  south  room,"  remarked  Al- 
mina  in  a  dignified  wa}^  as  if  she  reserved  the  right  to  clean 
house  when  she  pleased. 

"It's  jest  's  anybody's  a  mind  to,  of  course,"  was  the  tol- 
erant reply.  "  But  I  tell  um  if  I  git  it  done  'fore  fly-time  it's 
early  enough." 

Mrs.  Newton  was  so  occupied  in  gazing  at  Sally  that  she 
was  not  aware  that  she  had  repeated  her  former  remark. 

Almina  said  nothing.  She  employed  herself  by  carefully 
rubbing  the  cloth  in  her  hand  back  and  forth  over  the 
mirror. 

She  was  glancing  at  Mrs.  Newton,  and  she  saw  that  lady's 
eyes  bulge  still  more.  She  immediately  discovered  that  the 
cause  was  the  appearance  of  Thimble,  who  had  strolled 
round  to  the  front  of  the  house,  and  now  stood  with  his  ears 
cocked  towards  the  horse  in  the  buggy-shafts. 

"Be'n  buyin'  a  boss,  Alminy?"  Mrs.  Newton  tried  to  put 
this  question  in  a  casual  manner,  but  her  face  could  not  have 
looked  much  more  startled  if  her  interrogation  had  referred 
to  an  ostrich. 

"No," said  Almina,  "I  ain't  be'n  buyin'  no  boss." 

Mrs.  Newton  reached  forth  a  long  arm,  which  ended  in  a 


"a  man  may  be  a  fool  once  in  his  life"       281 

hand  with  a  brown  cotton  glove  on  it.  This  hand  was  di- 
rected towards  Thimble. 

"'Ain't  that  some  kind  of  a  boss?"  she  inquired. 

Sally  shook  the  carpet  in  greater  billows  than  ever,  and 
clouds  of  dust  flew  up  from  it. 

"That's  a  saddle  pony,"  answered  Almina.  "Don't  you 
think  you  better  come  in  'n'  se'  down  ?" 

Mrs.  Newton  ignored  this  second  invitation. 

"  Where'd  it  come  from  ?"  she  inquired. 

She  was  so  carried  along  by  the  intensity  of  her  curiosity 
that  she  was  unable  to  try  to  arrive  at  these  questions 
gradually. 

"  North  Caroliny,"  was  the  answer. 

"Ohl" 

Mrs.  Newton's  hand  sank  to  her  lap ;  but  her  tall  figure 
still  remained  leaned  out  of  the  buggy,  as  if  she  had  been  a 
marionette  put  in  that  position, 

"Ain't  you  kinder  old  'n'  stiff  to  begin  ridin'  horseback, 
Alminy  Drowdy.-*" 

"I  ain't  goin'  to." 

"Oh!" 

A  short  silence. 

"When  d'  you  conclood  to  set  up  nigger  help,  Alminy.?" 

"  I  ain't  goin'  to." 

"Oh!" 

The  tension  on  the  marionette  relaxed  sufficiently  to  en- 
able the  figure  to  sink  back  on  its  seat. 

"  Cluck !     G'long  !     Huddup,  I  say  !" 

The  Newton  horse  moved  slowly  away,  dragging  the  New- 
ton Goddard  buggy  behind  him. 

The  occupant  of  the  carriage  turned  and  peered  from  the 
narrow  slit  of  a  window  at  the  back. 

"  I  declare  !  I  do  declare  !"  she  exclaimed,  aloud.  "  I'm 
a  good  mineter  call  on  the  Selectmen  ;  I'm  a  good  mineter, 
's  ever  I  had  to  eat.  Somebody  ought  to  do  something. 
'Tain't  safe  to  let  Alminy  go  to  her  own  head." 

But  as  Mrs.  Newton  drove  on  she  gradually  changed  her 


282  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

mind  about  going  to  the  Selectmen.  She  did  not  know  pre- 
cisely what  to  say  to  these  guardians  of  the  town,  so  she  de- 
cided definitely  to  let  Almina  go  to  her  own  head. 

Miss  Drowdy,  when  the  Newton  equipage  was  out  of  sight, 
told  Sally,  rather  sharply,  to  take  the  carpet  around  to  the 
back  of  the  house  and  finish  shaking  it,  and  to  tie  up  Thim- 
ble in  the  barn. 

The  two  women  worked  all  the  forenoon.  By  two  o'clock 
not  only  the  south  room,  but  all  the  lower  rooms,  had  been 
through  a  regular  house-cleaning. 

Almina  was  tremulous  with  fatigue  and  expectation.  She 
said  half  a  dozen  times  that  she  did  wish  she  knew  when 
Temple  was  coming,  for  if  there  was  anything  that  wore  on 
her  it  was  uncertainty.  She  made  a  pot  of  strong  tea,  and 
she  and  Sally  drank  it. 

As  the  hours  of  the  afternoon  crept  on,  Almina  was  con- 
tinually going  to  the  window  to  look  down  the  road  in  the 
direction  of  the  station,  some  miles  away. 

She  told  Sally  that  she  hadn't  been  so  worked  up  since 
that  time  she  started  to  Carolina,  three  years  before. 

Sally  herself  partook  of  the  excitement,  but  her  expression 
of  the  emotion  was  very  different.  She  went  about  singing 
hymns  in  a  loud,  deep  voice ;  sometimes  she  struck  her 
hands  together  and  shouted, 

"  Come  down,  Lawd  !     Come  down  dis  yer  minute  !" 

Her  dark  face  shone ;  there  Avas  a  smouldering  fire  in  her 
eyes. 

Almina  was  constantly  fearing  that,  if  she  gave  way,  she 
should  herself  begin  to  shout,  and  she  had  a  New  England 
Congregationalist  shrinking  from  loudly  asking  the  Lord  to 
come  down. 

The  faint,  apple-green  twilight  sky  was  deepening  in  shade 
after  the  long  spring  day  when  Almina,  sitting  at  the  kitchen 
window,  saw  a  large  dog  come  loping  along  the  road.  He 
was  white,  and,  as  he  came  nearer,  she  perceived  that  he 
had  one  black  ear. 

All  the  light  from  the  west  seemed  concentrated  on  the 


"a  man  may  be  a  fool  once  in  his  life"       283 

animal,  who  now  stood  still  in  the  middle  of  the  highway 
and  looked  back,  as  if  waiting. 

Almina  rose,  pushing  her  chair  violently  from  her. 

"  It's  Yucatan !"  she  said,  in  a  high  voice.  "  She's  com- 
in'  !     Sally,  she's  comin' !" 

But  Sally  dashed  out  of  the  door  first.  She  ran  down  to 
the  end  of  the  yard,  and  just  then  a  carry -all,  drawn  by 
two  horses,  came  rapidly  along  and  turned  up  towards  the 
house. 

Some  one  in  the  carry-all  uttered  an  exclamation  and 
leaned  forward. 

The  two  women  saw  a  pale  face,  brilliant  with  emotion. 

Somehow  Sally  reached  forward  and  took  her  young  mis- 
tress in  her  arms.  The  yellow  woman  turned  away,  still 
holding  the  slight  figure.  She  carried  it  towards  the  house. 
She  was  saying,  in  a  sobbing  voice, 

"Honey!     Lamb!     Bress  her  !     Bress  her  I" 

The  large  dog  walked  close  beside  them,  and  sat  down  on 
the  floor  near  the  lounge  in  the  south  room,  where  Sally  put 
her  charge. 

The  yellow  woman  knelt  down  and  began  unfastening  the 
furs  Temple  wore.     She  was  crying  audibly. 

Notwithstanding  that  she  had  been  told  that  Temple  was 
ill,  she  had  not  expected  this  change.  The  thin,  pale  face 
was  transparent,  and,  though  now  held  quiet,  it  had  upon  it 
a  suggestion  of  intense  excitement. 

But  Temple  usually  carried  herself  so  quietly  as  to  deceive 
some  people  into  exclaiming,  "You  don't  tell  me  that  woman 
is  nervous !" 

Sally  threw  back  the  fur  cloak.  Then  Temple  reached 
forward  and  took  the  large,  brawny,  dark  hand.  She  clasped 
both  her  own  about  it.  She  smiled  up  into  the  dusky,  tropi- 
cal eyes  gazing  down  at  her. 

"  Don't  yo' !     Don't  yo' !"  cried  Sally. 

"Don't  what?" 

"  Smile  at  me  !     I  tell  yo'  I  carn't  abear  it !     I  carn't  I" 

"  But  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,  Sally." 


284  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Sally's  face  worked.  She  choked  on  the  word  she  tried 
to  speak.     Then  she  burst  out  in  the  beginning  of  a  prayer. 

"  Stop  !"  said  Temple. 

"  I  war  gwine  ter  pray  fur  yo',''  answered  the  yellow 
woman. 

"  I  know  it.     I  don't  want  you  tp  pray  for  me." 

Sally  gazed  in  surprise  at  the  face  before  her.  The  face 
had  hardened  a  little. 

Temple  tried  to  speak  in  a  different  tone. 

"I'm  tired,  you  know,  and — and — "  She  paused;  she 
knew  that  she  must  not  say  what  was  in  her  mind. 

Then  the  two  were  silent.  Temple  continued  to  hold 
Sally's  hand  in  both  her  own.  She  closed  her  eyes,  but  she 
could  feel  the  lids  quiver  and  burn  over  the  eyeballs.  Still 
she  kept  them  closed. 

The  dog  thrust  his  nose  into  Sally's  lap  and  whined. 

Outside,  Almina  was  standing  by  the  carriage  which  had 
driven  up  close  to  the  door. 

Mercer  had  occupied  the  seat  with  his  wife.  When  Sally 
had  taken  Temple  away  he  had  descended  quickly.  He 
took  Almina's  hand,  standing  for  a  moment  bareheaded  be- 
fore her. 

He  greeted  her  with  a  calm  cordiality.  It  seemed  that 
he  in  no  wise  partook  of  excitement  of  any  kind. 

Miss  Drowdy  noted  that  he  also  was  haggard  and  worn ; 
but  when  she  inquired  concerning  his  health  he  answered 
that  he  was  perfectly  well. 

He  turned  and  busied  himself  with  the  wraps  and  satchels 
in  the  carriage.  Every  motion  he  made  was  controlled  and 
effective. 

When  the  luggage  was  deposited  just  within  the  kitchen 
door,  Mercer  turned  to  Almina,  whom  he  had  not  allowed  to 
help  him,  and  asked  if  he  might  see  her  for  a  moment.  He 
was  going  away  that  evening,  and — 

Here  Almina  could  not  help  interrupting  with  the  ex- 
clamation, 

"  Going  so  soon  ?" 


"a  man  may  be  a  fool  once  in  his  life"       285 

"My  engagements  are  made,"  was  the  reply,  "and  I  must 
keep  them,  if  possible.  Tlie  driver  here  will  wait  an  hour, 
when  he  will  take  me  back  to  the  station  in  time  to  catch  the 
return  train  to  Boston.     I  shall  get  there  before  midnight." 

Mercer  drew  out  his  watch  and  looked  at  it.  His  face 
did  not  show  that  he  could  not  tell  the  time,  though  his  eyes 
dwelt  on  the  dial, 

Almina  led  the  way  into  the  kitchen.  She  hurriedly 
placed  a  chair  for  the  minister,  and  then  sat  down  and  gazed 
at  him. 

Mercer  also  sat  down ;  but  he  rose  instantly.  He  thrust 
one  hand  into  the  closely  buttoned  coat.  The  other  hand 
held  tightly  the  rim  of  his  hat. 

The  woman  gazing  at  him  thought  she  had  never  seen 
any  one  look  so  calm  and  cool.  She  respected  Mercer 
greatly;  but  just  now  she  thought  she  did  not  much  like 
him. 

"  After  all,"  he  began,  in  a  clear  voice,  "  I  don't  know  that 
I  have  much  to  say.  I  know  you  will  do  all  you  can  for 
Mrs.  Mercer.  She  is  wretched.  It  will  require  a  long  time 
for  her  to  recover.  Don't  spare  money  in  the  slightest  de- 
gree. I  shall  forward  you  a  certain  sum  per  month.  Please 
don't  demur  at  that.  I  know  you  are  hospitable,  but  you 
haven't  much  monev." 

Here  the  dry,  even  voice  paused  a  moment.  Almina  won- 
dered why  she  felt  such  a  growing  excitement.  She  had 
never  seen  any  one  quite  so  calm  as  this  man  was. 

"  I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  do  all  I  can  for  Temple,"  she 
said. 

"Yes,  I  know;  I'm  sure  of  that,"  with  a  slight  movement 
of  the  hand  and  hat.  "  I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  write  to  me 
every  Monday ;  you  will  tell  me  how  Mrs.  Mercer  is  every 
Monday  ?     You  understand  ?" 

The  tone  rasped  a  little. 

"  I  understand." 

"And  you  promise.'*" 

"Yes." 


286  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  I  thank  you.  I  can  rely  upon  you.  I  am  necessarily 
leaving  her  for  an  indefinite  time." 

Here  Mercer  drew  his  hand  from  the  breast  of  his  coat 
and  passed  it  slowly  over  his  forehead. 

"You  will  come  to  see  her  sometimes.''" 

Almina  pronounced  this  sentence  in  a  positive  manner. 

It  was  a  perceptible  space  of  time  before  the  man  replied, 

"Everything  is  extremely  uncertain.  Duty  will  keep  me 
much  of  the  time  at  a  distance." 

"  But  she  is  your  wife  !"  This  exclamation  broke  from 
the  woman  involuntarily. 

Then  she  blushed  at  her  temerity. 

Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  severe,  masculine  face  above 
her.  She  saw  it  grow  gray,  like  ashes.  But  Mercer's  voice 
was  just  the  same  as  he  said, 

"  I  shall  be  anxious ;  but  this  is  one  of  the  trials  to  which 
I  must  submit.  I  have  brought  Mrs.  Mercer  here  because 
she  and  I  believed  that  here  she  would  be  most  likely  to  re- 
cover rapidly.  She  has  longed  to  come  here  to  you.  She 
has  often  spoken  of  you." 

It  seemed,  for  some  reason,  necessary  for  Mercer  to 
pause  frequently.  And  after  each  time  he  paused  his  voice 
was  more  dry  and  cold. 

"  One  thing  more,"  he  went  on  again  ;  "  I  shall  keep  you 
informed  of  my  whereabouts,  so  that  you  will  know  where  to 
send  to  me  ;  and  if  any  change,  no  matter  how  slight,  for  the 
worse  takes  place,  you  will  telegraph  to  me  instantly.  And 
you  will  not,  I  think,  find  it  necessary  to  tell  Mrs.  Mercer  of 
this  arrangement.  She  will  write  to  me,  and  it  might  worry 
her  to  know  that  I  had  thought  it  necessary  to  ask  this  favor 

you. 

By  this  time  Mercer  was  talking  as  nearly  like  an  automa- 
ton as  a  human  being  may  be  able  to  do.  And  by  this  time 
Almina  was  thinking  with  great  surprise  that  she  could  very 
soon  hate  a  man  like  this,  even  though  he  w^ere  a  minister 
of  the  Gospel. 

"That  is  all,  I  believe,"  he  now  said. 


"  A    MAN    MAY    BE    A    FOOL    ONCE    IN    HIS    LIFE  "  287 

And  again  he  took  out  his  watch  and  studied  the  face  of 
it,  not  seeing  the  position  of  the  hands. 

"  I  will  now  see  Mrs.  Mercer  for  a  few  moments." 

Almina  rose.  She  felt  as  if  her  mind  were  gradually  stif- 
fening in  some  mysterious  way,  and  that  her  body  was  in- 
volved in  the  process. 

She  opened  the  door  into  the  south  room. 

Mercer  looked  into  the  room.  He  thought  his  eyes  were 
balls  of  fire  that  were  scorching  his  brain.  As  in  a  flame, 
an  instantaneous  picture  of  the  group  came  to  his  vision. 

He  saw  his  wife  on  the  lounge  with  her  face  turned  tow- 
ards Sally.  The  yellow  woman  was  kneeling  over  her.  The 
.great  dog  was  sitting  on  his  haunches,  his  heavy,  plumy  tail 
spread  out  straight  on  the  floor  behind  him,  while  his  head 
was  resting  on  the  lounge,  thrust  up  close  to  his  mistress's 
neck. 

Mercer  cleared  his  throat  as  he  advanced  into  the  room. 

Sally  rose  instantly.  As  she  turned  towards  him  he  saw 
how  moved  her  face  was,  and  that  the  cloudy  eyes  swam  in 
tears. 

"  Thank  de  Lawd  fur  a  sight  ob  Miss  Temple  1"  she  said, 
fervently.  She  passed  by  the  man,  and  joined  Almina  in  the 
kitchen. 

Yucatan  had  risen  also,  and  he  came  towards  his  master, 
slowly  swaying  his  tail. 

Mercer  stopped  the  dog.  He  put  one  hand  under  the 
lower  jaw  and  the  other  hand  on  top  of  Yucatan's  head. 
Thus  he  gazed  down  at  him,  seeing  with  an  aching  vividness 
the  magnificent  lion  face,  the  loyal  eyes  full  of  tenderness 
and  strength. 

The  words  in  the  man's  mind  were  :  "  Oh,  my  God  !  My 
God !" 

In  a  moment  he  drew  a  chair  to  the  couch.  He  spoke 
pleasantl}',  as  if  he  were  going  away  for  a  week  or  two. 

"I'm  glad  you'll  have  Yucatan.  When  you  get  strong 
enough  to  walk  about  the  country  here  I  shall  know  you'll 
be  well  protected." 


288  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Temple.  She  had  glanced  up  as  Mercer 
sat  down  by  her.  Now  her  eyelids  were  lowered.  Mercer 
looked  at  the  thick,  light  lashes. 

He  sat  back  firmly  in  his  chair.  By  what  might  be  called 
"  main  force  "  he  took  his  eyes  from  Temple's  face.  But 
direct  them  where  he  would,  they  only  saw  that  face,  that 
head,  with  its  plentiful  light  hair,  with  its  lovely  contour. 

"  I'm  sorry  you  did  not  arrange  to  stop  longer  here,  Rich- 
ard," said  Temple. 

"  Are  you  ?"  quickly. 

"  Certainly.     And  you  are  so  tired." 

"  I  shall  take  every  opportunity  to  rest.  Don't  think  of 
me  as  being  tired." 

"  Where  shall  you  go  now  ?" 

"  To  North  Carolina,  within  the  week." 

"Ah!" 

Temple  raised  herself  on  her  elbow.  A  flash  of  interest 
passed  over  her. 

Within  the  last  few  weeks  she  had  not  cared  to  know  any 
plans  for  work;  she  could  not  think  of  meetings.  And  what 
had  terrified  her  much,  what  she  had  not  confided  to  any 
one,  she  found  that  she  could  not  pray.  Worse  than  that, 
she  had  no  wish  to  pray. 

She  used  to  spend  hours  thinking  of  that  evening  among 
the  Carolina  mountains  when  she  had  "  experienced  relig- 
ion." 

A  thousand  times  she  asked  herself  if  she  had  not,  after 
all,  experienced.  Was  not  that  precious  gift  hers  ?  Had 
she  been  deceived  ? 

"  To  North  Carolina  ?"  she  now  said. 

"Yes.     Temple,  do  you  want  to  go  there  ?" 

The  flush  of  interest  on  her  face  made  Mercer  suddenly 
ask  this. 

"  No,  oh  no  !  No !  I  could  not  possibly  bear  the  moun- 
tains now." 

"  But  you  love  them  ?" 

"  Yes.     That  is  why  I  could  not  bear  to  see  them.     Still, 


"a  man  may  be  a  fool  once  in  his  life"        289 

I  am  so  different  now.  I  wonder  why,  now  that  I  reaHy  am 
so  different,  I  could  not  change  about  the  mountains.  I  won- 
der why,  Richard  ?" 

Mercer  tried  to  answer.     But  all  he  could  say  was, 

"You  are  not  well;  your  nerves  are  weak." 

Temple  smiled. 

"  Don't  mention  my  nerves,  please.  I've  heard  enough 
from  Miss  MacCallum  about  my  nerves  to  last  me  a  long 
life." 

The  man  was  silent.  Again,  in  spite  of  himself,  his  gaze 
dwelt  on  Temple's  eyelashes. 

He  was  thinking  that  he  had  noticed  these  lashes  on  that 
first  time  when  he  had  seen  her — noticed  them  with  that  curi- 
ous thrill  of  tender  admiration  which  he  felt  now. 

He  tried  to  get  himself  in  hand.  He  had  tried  to  do  that 
every  day,  it  seemed  to  him  every  moment  of  his  life,  since 
he  had  known  this  woman.     And  he  had  never  succeeded. 

It  was  true  that  he  had  succeeded  in  appearing  to  have 
full  control  of  himself.  But  he  struck  deeper  than  that.  It 
was  the  feeling  that  he  wished  to  command.  A  man  ought 
to  be  king  of  everything  within  him,  or  how  should  he  be  a 
man  ? 

Mercer  tried  to  speak.  He  had  thought  that  he  had 
something  special  to  say  to  his  wife,  now  that  he  was  leaving 
her.     But  he  could  not  say  anything. 

He  was  leaving  her.  He  leaned  his  head  forward  and 
put  his  hand  over  his  brow,  looking  down  at  her. 

Could  he  ever  stop  looking  at  her  ?  The  three  years  since 
his  marriage  had  been  horrible  years. 

But  there  had  been  one  thread  of  golden  light  running 
through  them — she  had  been  near  him.  He  knew  that  she 
had  not  been  happy,  but  she  had  been  near  him.  It  was 
something  to  be  able  to  turn  and  glance  at  her,  though  she 
was  never  expecting  his  glance  and  never  returned  it.  In- 
deed, outwardly  it  was  but  a  casual,  friendly  eyebeam. 

She  had  been  his  comrade  and  his  sympathetic  fellow- 
worker,  never  anything  more.  And  he  knew  that  now  had 
19 


290  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

come  the  end  even  of  this  comradeship.  But  she  did  not 
know  it.  How  much  would  she  care  if  she  did  know  it  ? 
She  had  always  been  so  friendly  and  so  kind,  he  was  sure 
she  would  care  somewhat.  And  she  had  worked  so  hard. 
She  had  thrown  herself  without  reserve  into  their  labor.  She 
had  used  without  stint  her  magnificent  strength.  How  she 
had  poured  herself  out ! 

At  last  Mercer  made  a  greater  effort  and  said,  "  When 
the  weather  grows  warmer  you  must  be  out-of-doors  all  day 
long.  I  shall  think  of  you  as  on  Thimble's  back,  almost 
from  sunup  to  sundown." 

How  dry  as  dust  his  voice  sounded  to  the  man  !  And  he 
thought  cloudily  that  the  words  were  strange  things;  they 
did  not  amount  to  anything ;  they  were  dead.  Could  not 
he  find  some  simple,  living  word  to  use  now  that  his  heart 
was  breaking,  his  life  going  out  of  him  ? 

Then  he  bethought  himself  that  even  if  there  were  such 
words  he  must  not  employ  them.  He  must  go  away  from 
Temple  as  calmly  as  he  had  lived  with  her. 

She  was  so  tender-hearted  that  she  might  grieve  in  a  su- 
perficial, brief  way. 

"It  was  so  kind  of  you  to  send  Thimble  and  Sally  here, 
said  Temple.     She  raised  her  eyes   towards  him.      "  But, 
then,  when  were  you  not  kind  ?     I  shall  miss  you  so  much." 

Mercer  wished  that  she  would  not  talk  in  that  way.  And 
he  wished  that  she  would  not  lift  her  eyes. 

How  long  would  it  be  before  she  ceased  to  miss  him,  even 
in  her  way  ?  She  could  not  help  thinking  of  him  for  a  while, 
they  had  been  so  intimately  associated. 

"  I  find  all  my  remarks  narrowing  down  to  these  words," 
he  began  :  "you  must  take  the  best  kind  of  care  of  yourself." 

His  voice  sank  to  a  husky  whisper  at  the  last  word. 

"  Oh,  there's  no  fear  but  that  I  shall  take  care  of  myself,'^ 
Temple  answered  ;  "  and  you'll  write  to  me  often,  Richard .?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  You  will  be  among  the  mountains  when  the  rhododen- 
drons come  ?" 


?T 


"a  man  may  be  a  fool  once  in  his  life"       291 

"  Yes." 

Temple  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  And  you  will  see  Busbee  in  April  ?'* 

"Yes." 

Another  long  breath. 

Temple  smiled  wistfully. 

"  I  know  Busbee  isn't  much  of  a  mountain  among  the 
rest  of  them  there,  but  it's  my  own." 

"  I  shall  think  of  that  when  I  see  it." 

The  man's  tone  was  so  very  rasping  that  his  wife  wondered 
at  it. 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  old  fallen  tree  still  makes  a  kind 
of  landing  on  the  Broad  near  my  home  ?" 

"  I  will  find  out,  and  I'll  write  to  you  about  it." 

"Oh,  thank  you  !  It  was  on  the  Broad,  you  know,  that  I 
learned  to  play  the  fiddle.     Richard,  you  do  look  so  tired!" 

Temple  raised  herself  again  on  her  elbow  as  she  fixed 
earnest  eyes  on  her  companion's  face. 

"I'm  all  right,"  more  brusquely  than  he  usually  spoke. 

He  rose. 

"I  think  I'll  go  now.  I'm  so  glad  I  leave  you  in  good 
care.     I  have  great  faith  in  Miss  Drowdy  and  Sally." 

"And  when  shall  you  come  to  see  how  I  am  getting  on.?" 

"  I  can't  tell  now,  really.  But  you  must  keep  me  advised 
of  your  welfare.     God  bless  you,  Temple  !" 

He  took  both  her  hands.  His  own  were  steady  and  cold, 
not  at  all  like  live  human  flesh. 

"Good-bye." 

He  kissed  her  hands  in  the  lightest  manner.  In  the  same 
way  his  lips  touched  her  forehead. 

He  left  the  room.  In  the  kitchen  he  shook  hands  with 
Miss  Drowdy  and  Sally. 

The  next  moment  he  was  out  in  the  yard. 

Temple  had  risen  from  the  couch  and  gone  to  the  win- 
dow. 

But  Mercer  did  not  once  glance  towards  the  house. 

He  entered  the  carriage  and  was  driven  away. 


292  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

When  Almina  came  into  the  room  a  few  moments  later 
her  guest  was  still  standing  at  the  window,  leaning  against 
the  casing,  gazing  out  as  if  she  saw  something  beside  the 
chill  trees  and  fields. 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

Almina,  alarmed,  she  knew  not  why,  hurried  to  Temple's 
side.  But  Temple  turned  immediately  to  her  and  said, 
gently, 

"  It's  nothing.  I  was  wondering  how  soon  the  new  oak 
leaves  would  push  off  the  old  ones.  The  new  always  pushes 
away  the  old,  doesn't  it.''" 

Temple  did  not  resume  her  place  on  the  lounge.  She 
asked  if  she  might  go  to  her  room.  She  said  she  did  not 
want  Sally  ;  she  only  wanted  Yucatan. 

Being  informed  that  she  was  then  in  her  sitting-room,  and 
that  the  bed  was  in  the  little  adjoining  room,  she  asked  if 
she  might  be  left  alone  with  Yucatan.  She  tried  to  explain 
that  she  could  rest  better  so. 

"  Laws  !"  interrupted  Sally,  "  don't  yo'  go  an'  try  to  s'plain 
nothin'." 

Being  thus  left  alone.  Temple  sat  down  on  the  floor  by 
the  chair  in  front  of  the  couch,  the  chair  Mercer  had  occu- 
pied. She  leaned  an  arm  across  it.  She  beckoned  to  the 
dog,  who  came  to  her.  But  he  went  back  to  the  window, 
put  his  paws  on  the  shelf,  raised  himself  and  looked  out, 
whining  under  his  breath  as  he  did  so. 

Temple  gazed  at  him  with  widened  eyes,  not  speaking. 

In  a  moment  he  came  to  her  side  and  stretched  himself 
out  beside  her. 

The  two  remained  quiet  for  a  long  time.  The  sunlight 
grew  warm  in  the  low  room. 

The  house  was  strangely  still.  Its  other  occupants  were 
hoping  that  Temple  was  asleep. 

But  she  was  not  sleeping.  Her  eyes  were  open,  but  vague 
and  unseeing.  She  was  listening  to  the  sound  of  the  wind 
as  it  rushed  round  the  corner  of  the  house.  She  heard  the 
oaks  thrash  about.     She  remembered  how  a  peach-tree  used 


"a  man  may  be  a  fool  once  in  his  life"       293 

to  rub  its  branches  on  the  roof  of  the  Carolina  log-house. 
That  was  when  she  was  somebody  else. 

After  a  while  the  door  of  the  kitchen  opened,  and  Almina, 
picking  over  beans,  looked  up  to  see  Temple  standing  there 
with  the  Newfoundland  close  behind  her. 

*'  I  wanted  to  speak  to  some  one,"  she  said. 

"  Bless  me  !  I  thought  you  were  asleep,  'n'  I've  been  just 
holdin'  my  breath  for  fear  I  should  wake  ye.  Come  right 
in.  I've  got  some  milk-toast  ready  'ginst  you  should  want 
something,  and  I'll  make  some  tea  or  coffee." 

"A  woman  with  nerves  doesn't  drink  tea  or  coffee,"  was 
the  response.  "Give  me  a  glass  of  milk.  And  don't  'make 
company  '  of  me,  please." 

Temple  sat  down  by  the  table  in  the  kitchen.  She  tried 
to  seem  hungry  as  she  forced  down  the  food. 

Almina  went  on  with  her  work.  The  beans  dropped  from 
her  hands  into  the  tin  pan  in  her  lap.  But  she  was  not 
thinking  of  what  she  was  doing,  and  she  knew  very  well  that 
these  beans  would  have  to  be  picked  over  again. 

She  explained  that  Sally  had  gone  to  the  barn  to  feed  the 
pony  ;  that  she  had  been  gone  more  than  an  hour. 

"  She  has  dropped  asleep,"  said  Temple.  "  I  know  her 
ways.     When  she  is  tired  she  will  fall  asleep  anywhere." 

As  she  spoke.  Temple  wondered  at  her  success  in  control- 
ling her  wish  to  see  her  pony.  And  she  hoped  that  she  was 
losing  that  power  to  feel  intensely,  since  in  this  world  that 
power  must  inevitably  bring  more  suffering  than  happi- 
ness. 

Then  she  thought  of  Miss  MacCallum,  and  smiled  deri- 
sively. Miss  MacCallum  knew  all  about  emotions;  she  had 
them  tabulated,  she  prescribed  some  and  proscribed  others. 
Some  were  to  be  cherished  as  strengthening  to  the  feminine 
human  being — such  as  love  for  a  man,  for  a  child,  and  so 
on.  Others,  such  as  a  too  ardent  love  for  a  friend  of  the 
same  sex,  too  deep  a  feeling  for  beauty  in  nature  or  in  hu- 
manity, were  to  be  nipped  in  the  bud.  You  were  not  to 
"  emotionalize  "  —  that  was  her  word  for  all  feeling  which  a 


294  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

lack  in  her  own  temperament  made  it  impossible  for  her  to 
understand. 

Almina  could  not  help  gazing  somewhat  markedly  at  her 
guest.  Temple,  holding  her  glass  of  milk,  and  sipping  it  oc- 
casionally, glanced  up  and  caught  this  look. 

"  What  are  you  thinking,"  she  asked,  with  the  quick  sus- 
picion of  an  invalid. 

"  Nothing  to  speak  of" 

"  Tell  me,"  with  a  touch  of  her  old  manner. 

The  elder  woman  colored  and  hesitated.  Finally  she 
said, 

"  I  was  wonderin'  if  you  had  any  of  your  old  temper.  You 
seem  so  changed." 

Temple  pushed  back  from  the  table. 

"Am  I  so  changed.''"  she  exclaimed,  a  sharp  note  in  her 
voice.  "  God  knows  I  have  tried  to  change  myself — I've 
tried  to  make  myself  all  over." 

**  Were  you  dretful  bad,  then  ?" 

"I  don't  know  —  yes,  of  course,  I  was.  Aren't  we  all 
dreadful  bad  ?  Our  original,  carnal  natures,  you  know.  Miss 
Drowdy." 

Almina  lifted  a  handful  of  beans  and  let  them  fall  con- 
templatively. 

"  I  d'  know,"  she  said,  slowly;  "  I've  been  thinkin'  a  good 
deal  myself." 

Here  the  speaker  smiled  and  turned  more  fully  towards 
her  companion.  "Fact  is,"  she  continued,  "I  ain't  never 
seen  nothin'  very  bad  in  you,  'cept  your  temper.  I  was 
wonderin'  if  you'd  get  the  better  of  that.  'N'  what's  be- 
come of  Bartholomew  .''" 

The  quick-coming,  quick-going  flush  came  to  Temple's 
face. 

"  Bart's  gone  to  the  bad — I  always  think  I  might  have 
done  more  for  him."  - 

"  Mebby.  But  you  had  him  when  there  wouldn't  nobody 
else  have  him  'round.  Why  don't  you  think  of  that,  's  well's 
of  what  you  didn't  do  for  him  .?" 


"a  man  may  be  a  fool  once  in  his  life"       295 

Temple  started  up  from  her  chair  with  another  touch  of 
her  old  self. 

"  How  comforting  you  are  !"  she  cried.  "  But  I  haven't 
been  looking  at  things  in  that  way.  I've  been  thinking  of 
sins  and  shortcomings,  and  scourging  myself  on.  And  you 
know — oh,  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it,  but  you  know  I  struck 
Bart.     Perhaps  if  I  hadn't  struck  him — " 

"Oh,  how  foolish  you  be  !"  interrupted  the  other  woman. 
"  You  jest  go  out-doors  'n'  git  a  breath  of  air.  It  '11  do  you 
more  good  than  thinkin'  such  stuff." 

Temple  came  close  to  Almina's  chair.  She  paused  there 
for  a  moment.     Then  she  said, 

"  I  was  sure  I  wanted  to  come  to  you,  and  I  was  right." 

Having  said  this,  she  walked  quickly  from  the  room. 

Almina  held  a  handful  of  beans  with  unconscious  close- 
ness, gazing  at  them  with  dim  eyes.  She  had  a  feeling  as  if 
she  had  been  caressed,  though  Temple  had  not  touched  her. 

As  for  Temple  herself,  she  felt  a  hint  of  coming  rest  as  she 
stepped  off  the  old  flat  stone  from  the  kitchen  door  into  the 
sunny  coolness  of  the  spring  day.  The  simplicity  of  Almina's 
goodness  was  a  refreshment.  There  did  not  seem  to  Tem- 
ple to  be  anything  complex  in  Almina's  nature.  She  lived 
without  that  continual  questioning  and  analysis. 

Temple  turned  her  face  up  towards  the  sky. 

"  Oh  yes,"  she  whispered,  "  I  must  have  been  right  when 
I  longed  to  come  here." 

She  hurried  to  the  barn.  A  shrill  neigh  greeted  her  en- 
trance. 

She  ran  into  the  stall  and  clasped  the  pony's  neck.  She 
kissed  his  soft  nose  ;  she  stroked  the  broad,  intelligent  fore- 
head ;  she  held  the  sharp  ears  in  her  hands  ;  she  laid  her 
face  down  on  Thimble's  shoulder ;  and  all  the  time  the  tears 
were  falling  from  her  eyes. 

"  How  could  I  let  two  hours  go  without  coming  here  to 
see  you  ?"  she  kept  saying.  "  I  did  long  to  come,  dear  ;  you 
know  I  longed  to  come.  But  I  wanted  to  try  to  wait.  I 
wanted  to  see  if  I  could  wait." 


296  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Sally  was  not  there.  Temple  looked  about  for  the  saddle 
and  bridle.  She  put  them  on,  her  hands  trembling  piteous- 
ly,  the  perspiration  starting  from  her  face. 

She  threw  open  the  barn  door.  Then  she  got  into  the 
saddle. 

The  pony  walked  out  into  the  yard  ;  the  air  blew  over 
Temple.  She  shook  the  lines.  Thimble  broke  into  his  little 
amble,  tossing  up  his  head,  his  ragged,  neglected  mane  falling 
in  rough  locks  on  both  sides  of  his  neck. 

A  window  in  the  house  was  flung  up  sharply. 

"Be  you  sure  you're  able.?"  cried  Almina. 

For  answer  Temple  waved  her  hand  and  smiled  radiantly. 

But  Almina  did  not  quite  trust  to  that  manner. 

She  went  up -stairs  and  watched  the  horsewoman  going 
down  the  long  road,  the  pony  at  his  slow  amble. 

Temple  suddenly  knew  that  her  strength  was  ebbing.  A 
tremor  came  to  her  hands ;  a  faintness  took  possession  of 
her.     She  turned  the  pony  back. 

Almina  rushed  down  to  the  door.  She  put  her  arm  about 
Temple  as  she  dropped  from  the  saddle. 

"You  see,"  said  Temple,  just  above  a  whisper,  "I  wasn't 
able.     Perhaps  I  never  shall  be." 

"Land  of  love  !"  was  the  brisk  response,  "you'll  be  can- 
tering all  over  the  country  'fore  you  know  it." 

While  Temple  was  thus  returning,  Mercer  was  riding  tow- 
ards Boston. 

He  was  sitting  by  himself  in  the  train,  apparently  watch- 
ing every  object  to  be  seen  from  the  window. 

Ten,  twenty  miles  from  Hoyt.     Twenty  miles  from  Hoyt. 

When  the  conductor  came  in  after  the  last  stopping-place, 
Mercer  touched  his  arm. 

"  How  far  to  the  next  town  ?" 

"  Six  miles." 

"  Does  this  train  stop  there .?"  The  conductor  nodded, 
and  hurried  on. 

Presently  Mercer  stood  on  the  platform  at  the  next 
station. 


"  A    MAN    MAY    BE   A    FOOL   ONCE    IN    HIS    LIFE."         297 

What  he  was  saying  to  himself  was  what  he  had  been  say- 
ing for  the  last  hour: 

"A  man  may  be  a  fool  once  in  his  life.  A  man  may  be 
a  fool  once  in  his  life." 

He  went  into  the  station  and  inquired  for  the  nearest 
livery-stable.  It  was  rather  a  large  town,  and  he  had  no 
difficulty  in  getting  a  saddle-horse.  He  asked  the  way  to 
Hoyt,  and  then  he  galloped  out  over  the  road  in  that 
direction. 


XVIII 
RETURNING   STRENGTH 

The  spring  sunlight  was  warm.  The  robins  were  making 
excursions  here  and  there  as  if  selecting  building  spots. 
Among  the  trees  there  could  be  heard  the  resounding  taps 
of  the  woodpecker,  and  one  might  see  the  bird  briskly  run- 
ning up  a  tree-trunk. 

But  Mercer  did  not  hear  nor  see  any  of  the  country 
sounds  or  sights.  He  was  riding  swiftly  over  roads  mostly 
solitary.  He  had  more  than  twenty  miles  to  go.  It  would 
be  evening  long  before  he  reached  Hoyt.  He  had  no  defi- 
nite plan  as  to  what  he  should  do  when  he  should  arrive. 
All  that  he  knew  was  that  he  must  see  his  wife  once  more. 
Just  once  more. 

Sometimes,  as  he  rode,  he  childishly  repeated  these  last 
words  aloud.  Then  he  would  draw  himself  up  as  he  would 
have  drawn  up  a  fractious  horse. 

*' There's  just  about  so  much  of  the  idiot  in  every  human 
being,"  he  said,  "  and  the  time  always  comes  when  the  idiot 
acts.  That  time  is  come  for  me.  I  thought  I  'had  will, 
reason,  common-sense.     Well,  just  now  I  haven't  either." 

He  urged  his  horse  to  go  yet  faster  through  the  now  slant- 
ing beams  of  the  sun.  The  earthy,  spring  smells  came  out 
more  strongly  as  night  approached. 

"What  shall  I  say  to  her  when  I  see  her?" 

But  he  had  no  reply  to  that  question. 

'Perhaps  it  was  the  subtle  influence  of  the  spring;  perhaps 
the  reaction  from  the  strain  of  leaving  Temple  ;  but  true  it 
was  that  Mercer  had  never  found  it  so  difficult  to  combat 
the  natural  impulses  of  his  heart,  never  so  hard  to  fight 
against  nature. 


RETURNING   STRENGTH  299 

As  he  rode  on,  thinking  of  Temple  at  the  end  of  the  jour- 
ney, the  thrill  of  love  and  longing  for  the  beloved  quite  over- 
mastered him. 

But  only  for  the  moment,  he  told  himself.  His  purpose 
remained  just  the  same.  His  purpose  had  been  formed  by 
reason  and  long  deliberation.  Therefore  it  was  right.  The 
thing  that  reason  sanctioned  must  be  right. 

He  had  prayed  much ;  he  had  laid  this  matter  many 
times  before  God  ;  had  passionately  pleaded  for  light  and 
guidance. 

But  Mercer  had  never  been  absolutely  sure  as  to  the 
answer.  God,  for  some  mysterious  reason,  did  not  vouch- 
safe His  aid.  That  meant,  of  course,  that  Mercer  was  to  do 
what  he  could  with  his  own  mind  to  direct  him. 

There  had  been  times,  often  repeated,  when,  as  Mercer 
prayed  in  public  at  his  special  meetings,  he  found  himself 
pleading  with  an  abandon  of  fervor  that  his  wife  might  love 
him. 

Not  that  his  words  were  to  that  effect ;  not  that  the  people 
listening  guessed  what  was  in  his  heart.  He  did  not  know 
how  it  was  that  he  could  pour  out  hot  words  of  entreaty  for 
the  men  and  women  before  him,  when  his  soul  was  only  cry- 
ing out  for  the  love  of  his  wife. 

Often  he  asked  himself  what  she  felt  at  such  times. 

There  she  was  on  the  platform  near  him. 

Week  by  week,  day  by  day,  Mercer  had  seen  that  Temple 
had  less  strength,  less  vitality. 

The  robust  mountain  girl,  whose  physical  power  was  great 
enough  to  bear  the  thrill  and  vibration  of  a  sensitive,  aesthetic 
nature,  was  changing  all  the  time  into  the  delicate  woman 
who  quivered  and  shook  with  what  people  so  curiously  call 
"nerves,"  and  who  was  prostrate  after  any  intense  feeling. 

Miss  MacCallum  said  it  was  "  emotion."  Miss  MacCal- 
lum  proposed  to  eliminate  emotion  from  Temple's  life,  not 
merely  now  that  she  was  an  invalid,  but  after  lack  of  emotion 
should  have  restored  her  to  health. 

All  this  went  through  Mercer's  mind  as  he  rode  on,  and 


300  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

the  sun  went  down  below  the  horizon.     The  man  owned  to 
himself  that  he  was  groping  blindly. 

He  did  not  know  but  that  human  nature  principally  needed 
suppression  in  this  world.     He  had  believed  that  it  did. 

It  required  an  effort  on  his  part  for  him  to  make  the  nec- 
essary inquiries  as  to  the  direction  in  which  he  should  ride. 
He  could  hardly  detach  his  mind  from  the  thoughts  that 
filled  it,  and  he  had  w^hat  he  knew  was  an  unnatural  feeling 
that  he  ought  to  be  aware  by  intuition  as  to  the  way  to  go. 

■The  clock  at  Hoyt  Centre  had  struck  eight  when  he  came 
within  sight  of  Miss  Drowdy's  home.  The  little  brown 
house  looked  black  in  the  moonlight. 

Mercer  had  a  fear  that  he  should  disturb  some  one. 

It  was  as  still  as  if  a  great  peace  had  descended  on  the 
world. 

He  dismounted,  and  led  his  horse  slowly  into  the  yard. 
As  he  did  so  he  heard  Thimble's  shrill  whinny  from  the 
barn.     Then  Yucatan's  deep  voice  came  from  the  house. 

A  light  in  the  kitchen  moved  and  came  towards  the  outer 
door,  which  opened  softly. 

Mercer  saw  Almina  peer  out.  Then  the  woman  went 
back,  set  her  lamp  on  the  table,  and  again  came  to  the  door, 
the  moonlight  covering  her  figure  and  glorifying  it. 

"  It's  just  as  pleasant  as  it  can  be,"  said  Almina  to  her- 
self. 

Then  she  started,  uttering  a  little  cry. 

Mercer  advanced,  still  leading  his  horse. 

He  held  up  his  hand. 

"What's  happened.''"  she  whispered. 

"Nothing.     Only  I  came  back." 

Almina  looked  narrowly  at  the  man  before  her. 

She  thought  that  perhaps  the  moonlight  gave  him  that 
ghastly  appearance.  And  she  had  never  seen  such  eyes 
"on  any  mortal  being." 

"You  came  back?"  she  repeated.  "Then  there  ain't  no 
accident?" 

"  No." 


RETURNING    STRENGTH  301 

"  Hadn't  you  better  come  in  ?" 

"  Thank  you.     I'll  hitch  my  horse  to  this  tree." 

"Ain't  you  goin'  to  stop?" 

"  Oh  no.     I  shall  go  right  away." 

The  woman  stood  in  silence  while  Mercer  fastened  the 
bridle  about  the  limb  of  the  oak. 

"I  thought  I  might  see  Mrs.  Mercer  for  half  an  hour." 

Mercer  said  this  when  the  two  stood  in  the  kitchen. 

Almina  was  thinking  that  this  man  looked  even  more 
strange  by  the  lamplight  than  he  had  looked  by  moonlight. 

"Yes,"  said  Almina,  mechanically. 

"Where  is  she?" 

"  She  has  gone  to  bed.  I  just  peeped  in  at  her,  and  she 
was  fast  asleep — sleepin'  like  a  baby." 

"That  is  good.     It  has  been  so  difficult  for  her  to  sleep." 

Mercer  stood  in  silence  after  having  spoken  thus.  Then 
he  asked  again, 

"Where  is  she?" 

"  In  there." 

He  opened  the  door  indicated,  and  noiselessly  closed  it 
after  him. 

The  Newfoundland  was  lying  by  the  bed  in  a  broad  bar 
of  moonlight,  which  also  fell  across  the  bed  and  on  the  face 
of  the  woman  lying  there. 

Yucatan  came  forward  slowly.  He  thrust  his  cold  nose 
into  Mercer's  hand.  Then,  as  Mercer  remained  standing 
motionless,  the  dog  went  back  and  resumed  his  position. 

Do  men  look  at  the  face  of  their  dead  as  Mercer  now 
looked  at  the  face  of  his  wife  ? 

Remote  and  white  and  still  she  was. 

Fatigue  from  the  journey,  the  sudden  sense  of  peace,  the 
relaxation  from  an  unguessed  strain — all  had  made  Temple 
sleep,  as  she  had  not  slept  for  months,  profoundly. 

She  had  longed  to  come  out  into  the  country  to  Miss 
Drowdy,  whose  simple  nature  she  remembered  with  a  sense 
of  rest.  She  had  come,  and  now  she  had  fallen  asleep  and 
was  dreaming  of  riding  her  pony  over  the  mountain  to  the 


302  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Dalvecker  farm.     But  that  was  before  Chris  had  been  "in 
lurv  "  with  her. 

She  moved,  and  said  some  indistinct  word. 

Mercer  stood  there. 

"  Since  she  is  asleep,  that  is  a  sign  that  I  must  not  speak; 
that  I  may  only  look  at  her." 

That  was  what  he  was  thinking. 

That  precious,  that  inestimable  sleep  must  not  be  dis- 
turbed. 

Now  he  knew  what  he  must  do.  He  must  go  away  with- 
out hearing  her  voice  again. 

He  could  fancy  she  spoke.  He  almost  thought  she  said 
"  Richard." 

But  his  mere  presence  might  waken  her.  And  if,  indeed, 
she  spoke  his  name,  it  was  only  from  habit,  the  iron  habit 
which  fetters,  whether  it  be  with  happiness  or  with  misery. 

As  Mercer  stood  there  he  tried  to  put  himself  in  the  place 
of  some  one  else,  and  to  ask  if  there  were  any  other  path 
but  the  path  which  led  away  from  Temple.  Useless  ques- 
tioning! 

She  had  married  him  in  the  midst  of  the  religious  exalta- 
tion of  an  "  experience."  She  had  longed  to  be  a  mission- 
ary. 

He  had  offered  her  this  work,  and  she  had  accepted  it ; 
the  acceptance  had  entailed  the  necessity  of  becoming  his 
wife. 

Now  she  was  worn  out  with  the  work ;  and  in  the  bottom 
of  his  heart  Mercer  was  convinced  that  her  present  condition 
was  caused  still  more  by  the  bondage  in  which  he  had  placed 
her.  She  had  put  on  the  harness  bravely,  and  worn  it  hero- 
ically. But  it  was  a  bondage  ;  it  was  a  harness  that  galled 
her  whole  nature. 

Gradually,  like  some  subtle  poison  diffusing  itself  in  the 
system,  this  conviction  had  fastened  itself  upon  Mercer. 

It  was  killing  Temple  to  live  in  this  way.  Therefore,  her 
life  must  be  ordered  otherwise. 

And  he  would  see  to  it  that  it  was  otherwise  ordered.     He 


RETURNING    STRENGTH 


303 


would  see  to  it,  without  any  regard  to   his  own  wishes  or 
hopes. 

What  was  life  in  this  world  at  the  highest  ?  Merely  a  pro- 
bation, a  time  of  trial.  He  would  get  through  it  as  best  he 
could.  In  the  life  to  come  it  might  be  that  God  would  bless 
him  in  full  measure.  But  in  the  life  to  come  he  could  not 
expect  Temple's  love.  When  he  would  reach  this  point 
Mercer  would  fight  against  the  wild  rush  of  the  conviction 
that  he  would  be  willing  to  exchange  all  the  blessing  of  the 
future  existence  for  the  rapture  of  possessing  his  wife's  love 
here  on  earth. 

He  turned  away  dumbly  from  the  bed  where  she  lay. 
Yes,  doubtless  God  had  ordered  this  also — that  he  was  not 
to  have  this  one  word  with  her.  It  was  best.  Oh  yes,  it 
was  best.  There  could  not  be  the  slightest  question  as  to 
that.  If  he  could  have  spoken  it  was  not  in  the  least  likely 
that  he  would  have  said  the  right  thing. 

So  the  man  left  the  room.  In  the  kitchen  Almina  was 
sitting  by  the  lamp  on  the  table.  She  had  some  knit- 
ting in  her  hands.  On  the  floor  near  the  stove  Sally  was 
lying  fast  asleep,  her  head  resting  on  a  folded  shawl  which 
her  hostess  had  insisted  upon  placing  for  her. 

Almina  wondered  what  the  neighbors  would  think.  She 
laughed  a  little  as  she  wondered. 

But  at  this  moment  she  was  thinking  of  Mr.  Mercer's 
sudden  appearance.  She  looked  up  anxiously  as  he  now 
entered. 

"  It  seemed  too  bad  to  waken  her,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

**  You  c'n  see  her  to-morrow,"  responded  Almina. 

"No." 

Mercer  said  no  more.  He  was  standing  in  his  usual 
upright  way,  his  tall  figure  looking  very  tall  in  the  low 
room. 

He  was  trying  to  make  up  his  mind  to  ask  this  woman 
not  to  mention  his  sudden  visit.  But  he  could  not  quite 
decide  to  do  that. 

After  a  moment  he  advanced  and  held  out  his  hand. 


304  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

To  himself  he  seemed  like  some  foreign  individuality,  and 
he  could  not  adjust  his  mind. 

But  he  said  good-bye  again  in  his  ordinary  tone,  and  he 
left  the  room  and  mounted  his  horse. 

Directly  after  he  had  gone  Almina  threw  a  shawl  over  her 
head  and  hurried  into  the  vard.  She  went  to  the  road  and 
gazed  at  the  horseman,  who  was  riding  fast. 

When  he  was  out  of  sight  she  returned  to  the  house. 

"  It  jest  beats  me,"  she  remarked  to  herself.  "  He  hadn't 
no  errand.     Yes,  it  certainly  beats  me." 

As  she  stood  there  with  the  shawl  still  on  her  head  the 
door  of  the  bedroom  opened  softly,  and  Temple  said, 

"Miss  Drowdy." 

Almina  hastened  forward. 

She  put  her  arm  about  Temple,  and  hurried  her  to  the  bed 
and  covered  her.     Then  she  sat  down  by  her. 

Temple  gazed  at  her  companion  intently. 

"  I've  been  dreaming,"  she  said,  at  last.  Then  she  sat  up 
quickly  in  bed.     She  caught  hold  of  Almina's  arm. 

"  The  dream  was  so  real  that — that — but  then  it  can't  be 
true.  I  thought  Richard  had  come  back  for  some  reason — 
that  he  was  here  in  this  room  but  a  moment  ago.  And  I 
tried  to  speak  to  him.  It  seemed  necessary — a  question  of 
life  or  death — that  I  should  speak." 

Having  said  this,  Temple  tried  to  be  more  calm.  She 
still  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  Almina,  who  moved  uneasily, 
and  who  finally  said, 

"  Dreams  do  sometimes  seem  jest  as  real." 

She  shrank  from  speaking  of  Mercer's  visit,  fearing  that  a 
knowledge  of  it  might  prevent  Temple  from  sleeping. 

"  I  know  they  seem  real,"  was  the  response.  "  In  this  one 
I  heard  the  sound  of  horse's  feet.  They  were  galloping,  al- 
ways galloping ;  and  Richard's  back  was  towards  me  ;  he 
was  riding  away  from  me.     Miss  Drowdy — " 

Temple  sat  up  in  bed.     She  looked  so  weary,  and  so  full 
of  a  quick,  painful  life,  that  the  elder  woman's  heart  ached. 
*'  He  has  been  here  !"  cried  Temple. 


RETURNING    STRENGTH  305 

*'Yes." 

"Why  did  he  come?"  in  a  high  voice. 

"  He  said  to  see  you  again." 

"  But  he  rode  away,"  still  in  that  voice. 

"  I  know  it.     He  said  your  sleep  must  not  be  disturbed." 

"  Did  he  come  in  here.?" 

"Yes." 

"  It  was  real !  It  was  real,  then  !"  Temple  sank  back 
on  the  bed  again. 

Yucatan,  who  had  come  to  the  bedside  when  his  mistress 
had  raised  her  voice,  now  nuzzled  his  nose  against  her  hand. 
She  glanced  down  at  him. 

"You  saw  him,  old  dog;  he  spoke  to  you,  I'm  sure,"  she 
said. 

Yucatan  wagged  his  tail  for  answer. 

"  He  left  no  word  ?" 

"  No.  I  guess  he  jest  come  back  'cause — well,  'cause  he 
thought  he  would,"  said  Almina,  rather  ineffectively.  "  Now 
you  lay  right  down  'n'  try  to  go  to  sleep  again." 

Temple  drew  the  clothes  up  about  her.  She  promised  to 
try  to  go  to  sleep.  She  said  she  was  so  thankful  to  be  in 
Hoyt  with  Miss  Drowdy.  She  thought  in  a  few  days  she 
should  be  able  to  ride  her  pony. 

Almina  rose.  She  suggested  that  she  should  bring  some 
skull-cap  tea  for  the  purpose  of  soothing  her  guest.  But  her 
guest  answered  that  she  would  try  to  pass  the  night  without 
skull-cap. 

When  she  was  left  alone  Temple  called  Yucatan  to  her. 
She  leaned  out  and  clasped  the  dog's  head  between  her 
thin,  nervous-looking  hands. 

"What  did  he  say  to  you,  dear?"  she  asked.  "Sweet- 
heart, what  did  he  say  to  you  ?  I  know  he  noticed  you. 
He  is  kind  to  everything." 

Again  the  dog  gave   his  inarticulate  response.     Temple 

bent  farther  forward  and  kissed  Yucatan's  face  between  his 

eyes. 

Sinking  back  on  her  pillow,  once  more  she  closed   her 
20 


306  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

eyes.  She  began  to  fancy  she  heard  that  horse  galloping 
again.  It  began  to  gallop  to  a  strange  rhythm  that  grew 
more  and  more  indefinite  until  she  was  asleep. 

"I  guess,"  said  Freddy's  mother  the  next  morning  to 
Freddy's  father,  as  all  three  sat  at  breakfast — "I  guess  you 
better  harness  up,  'n'  I'll  go  over  to  Alminy's  'n'  spend  the 
day.  I  d'  know  what  she  will  git  up  to  next.  What  with  a 
nigger  woman,  'n'  that  old  pony,  'n'  that  gal  of  Roger 
Crawford's  that  married  the  evangelist,  I  ain't  no  idea  what 
she'll  come  to." 

"  Whatever  she  comes  to,  you  can't  stop  'er,"  said  Mr. 
Wilson,  in  a  momentary  interval  between  one  slapjack  and 
another. 

"  I  c'n  try,  anyway,"  was  the  response ;  "  'n'  if  'tain't 
Alminy's  sister's  duty  to  try,  I'm  sure  I  d'  know  whose  duty 
'tis." 

Freddy  began  to  kick  his  short  legs  violently  back  and 
forth  under  the  table.     He  shook  his  spoon  at  his  mother. 

"  Mar,"  he  announced,  "you've  got  ter  take  me  !  I  wanter 
see  the  pony!  Make  auntie  lemme  ride  the  pony!  Make 
auntie  lemme  ride  it,  I  say !" 

"  But,  Freddie,  'tain't  auntie's  pony,"  said  his  mother, 
with  ingratiating  explanation  and  deprecation  in  her  voice. 

"Make  auntie  lemme!"  was  the  peremptory  response, 
the  legs  going  faster  than  before. 

"  Mummer  '11  try,"  now  said  Mrs.  Wilson ;  and  to  her 
husband,  "  I  guess  you  better  harness  soon's  you  git  through 


eatin'." 


Mr.  Wilson  nodded.  He  did  not  like  to  talk  much  while 
laying  in  his  stores  of  food. 

His  wife  rose  from  the  table,  and  left  her  husband  still 
breakfasting.  She  moved  back  Freddy's  high-chair  and  led 
that  young  man  to  the  sink,  took  an  end  of  a  towel,  dipped 
it  in  water,  then  rubbed  it  on  the  cake  of  yellow  soap,  then 
tipped  back  her  son's  head,  and  applied  the  towel  to  his  face 
with  relentless  thoroughness. 

Freddy  kicked  the  sink,  which  was  already  much  battered 


RETURNING   STRENGTH  307 

from  the  same  cause.     He  writhed,  but  he  could  not  escape 
from  the  maternal  grasp. 

In  less  than  an  hour  mother  and  son  were  sitting  in  the 
open  wagon,  and  were  driving  towards  Almina's.  Freddy  in- 
sisted upon  driving,  thereby  keeping  his  guardian  in  a 
dreadful  state  of  nervous  tension  and  watchfulness,  for  she 
was  constantly  obliged  to  snatch  the  reins,  for  the  horse 
stumbled  and  had  a  way  of  shying  when  there  was  nothing 
whatever  visible  to  the  human  eye  that  should  make  him 
shy. 

Therefore,  by  the  time  Mrs.  Wilson  came  in  sight  of  her 
sister's  home  she  was  in  an  irritated  frame  of  mind  not  cal- 
culated to  make  her  judgment  lenient. 

She  would  not  let  Freddy  clamber  from  the  wagon  by 
himself,  but  got  out  first,  and  then  lifted  him  and  set  him 
down  emphatically.  He  instantly  started  to  run  towards  the 
barn. 

His  mother  took  the  horse  severely  by  the  bridle  and 
walked  in  the  direction  taken  by  her  son.  But  she  went  in 
rather  a  zigzag  fashion,  for  her  eyes  were  fastened  on  the 
house,  as  if  she  were  a  detective,  and  were  determined  to 
discover  in  the  very  shingles  some  sign  of  her  sister's  strange 
doings. 

But  she  saw  nothing  unusual. 

It  was  a  clear,  cool  morning.  The  smoke,  as  it  came 
from  the  chimney,  rose  in  a  straight  line  up  towards  the  blue 
sky. 

Some  doves  flew  down  on  the  roof,  and  strutted  back  and 
forth.  They  were  Almina's  pigeons,  and  it  was  just  like  her 
to  keep  them,  her  sister  thought,  and  let  them  eat  as  much 
corn  as  twice  as  many  hens  would  have  eaten. 

The  woman  leading  the  horse  pressed  her  lips  yet  more 
closely  together. 

As  a  married  woman,  and  the  feminine  head  of  a  family, 
she  knew  that  she  was  in  a  position  to  rebuke  Almina,  who 
was  only  an  old  maid. 

At  this  stage  in  her  reflections  she  rolled  open  the  barn 


3o8  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

door,  and  at  the  same  moment  Almina  appeared  in  the  yard. 
She  had  just  seen  her  sister,  and  now  came  running  out, 
with  her  long  apron  flung  over  her  head  and  held  tightly 
under  her  chin. 

"I  thought  I  heard  wheels,  'n'  then  I  thought  I  didn't," 
she  remarked.  "  Lemme  help  you  take  the  horse  right  out. 
I  s'pose  you've  come  to  spend  the  day,  'ain't  ye  ?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  reply;  "I  guess  I  sh'U  stay  till  towards 
night,  anyway.  You  jest  unhook  that  tug,  your  side,  will 
ye?" 

One  woman  stood  at  one  side  of  the  horse  and  one  at 
the  other,  and  he  was  soon  led  out  of  the  shafts. 

"  I  thought  I  seen  Freddy,"  said  Almina. 

She  knew  that  her  manner  was  not  quite  as  cordial  as  it 
ought  to  be.  The  firm  belief  that  her  sister  had  come 
from  curiosity,  and  that  she  would  reprove  her,  made  gen- 
uine hospitality  for  the  moment  impossible. 

"  Yes,  Freddy  come,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  guess  he's 
gone  right  in  to  see  that  pony.  He's  crazy  'bout  him.  'N'  I 
must  say  it  does  seem  ruther  strange  'bout  that  pony." 

Almina  restrained  herself  from  making  any  reply  to  this 
remark.  In  silence  she  pulled  off  the  saddle  and  crupper 
from  the  horse. 

Mrs.  Wilson  was  busy  with  the  rope  that  took  the  place 
of  a  buckle  on  the  throatlash. 

"I  don't  s'pose  for  one  minute,"  she  said,  "that  if  you'd 
married  the  doctor  you'd  be'n  havin'  a  nigger  woman,  'n'  a 
pony,  'n'  a  sick  person  comin'  to  live  with  you." 

"No,"  said  Almina,  "I  don't  s'pose  I  should." 

"  No,  I  guess  not,"  with  emphasis.  "  'N'  there  wa'n't 
nothin'  aginst  the  doctor.     You  can't  say  there  was." 

"  No,  I  can't  say  there  was,  'n'  I  never  did  say  so." 

"  I  don't  wonder  you're  touchy." 
I  ain't  touchy." 

Oh,  ain't  you  ?  Where  is  that  colored  woman  ?  Why 
ain't  she  out  here  helpin'  us.-*  My  husband  said  he  thought 
she  was  taller'n  he  was.     He  was  all  struck  up  'bout  her." 


RETURNING    STRENGTH 


309 


Almina  waited  a  little  before  she  replied.  She  had  made 
up  her  mind  to  keep  her  temper;  also  to  do  as  she  pleased. 
It  seemed  to  her  that,  though  she  was  an  old  maid,  possibly 
even  somewhat  because  of  that  fact,  she  had  a  right  to  her 
own  individuality,  and  her  own  way  of  living. 

Before  she  was  quite  ready  to  reply  there  came  a  sound 
from  the  other  side  of  the  partition  that  separated  the  front 
part  of  the  barn  from  the  back  where  the  horse  and  cattle 
stalls  were. 

It  was  a  sound  like  the  sudden  and  violent  hitting  of 
something  hard  against  planks,  and  it  was  repeated  with 
great  rapidity  two  or  three  times. 

Almina  ran  to  the  scene,  followed  by  her  sister.  She 
was  first  to  arrive,  and  she  found  Freddy  with  a  long  stick 
in  his  hand,  standing  behind  Thimble. 

She  caught  the  boy  by  the  arm. 

"  I  'ain't  whipped  him  !"  he  cried,  "  I  was  only  just  touch- 
in'  his  hind-legs  with  the  end  of  this  to  see  what  he'd  do.  I 
'ain't  whipped  him  a  natom." 

"  You'd  better  not,"  said  Almina,  sharply.  "  He's  as  good- 
natured  's  he  can  be,  but  he  won't  stand  no  whip,  now,  I  tell 
ye." 

Freddy  began  to  pull  and  strain  at  his  aunt's  hand. 

"  Lemme  git  on  him  !     Lemme  git  on  him  !"  he  shouted. 

"He  ain't  mine,"  replied  his  aunt. 

"  But  you  c'n  lemme  git  on  him  !     You  know  you  can  !" 

"I  sha'n't,"  answered  Almina. 

"Here,  Freddy,  come  to  your  mummer,  now,"  interposed 
Mrs.  Wilson.  "  Auntie's  got  other  things  to  think  of  now 
besides  little  Freddy.  If  she  don't  want  you  to  git  on  that 
nasty  pony,  why,  you  can't  git  on  him — that's  all  there  is 
about  that." 

Almina  turned  to  her  sister.  She  found  it  quite  difficult 
to  hold  to  her  resolve  to  keep  her  temper. 

"  Now,  I  do  wish  you'd  be  reasonable,"  she  said;  "  'Tain't 
my  pony,  'n'  I  'ain't  no  right  to  let  Freddy  do  anything  with 
him.    You  know  jest 's  well 's  I  do,  that  I'd  give  my  eye-teeth 


3IO  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

to  Freddy  if  he  wanted  'em — if  I'd  still  got  'em  in  my  head," 
she  added,  with  a  laugh. 

The  mother  was  mollified  at  this  mention  of  sacrifice  to 
her  boy.  She  knew  very  well  that  her  boy  was  living  in  this 
world  that  he  might  have  sacrifices  offered  to  him  by  his  rel- 
atives, particularly  by  his  female  relatives.  She  also  laughed 
and  said  she  "  guessed  Freddy  could  git  along  without  his 
auntie's  eye-teeth,  even  if  she'd  had  any. 

Then  the  two  women  put  the  horse  in  the  stall  next  Thim- 
ble, and  Thimble  kicked  violently  against  the  dividing  planks, 
and  danced  as  much  as  he  could,  tied  by  the  halter  as  he 
was. 

In  the  midst  of  this  Sally  appeared. 

She  had  on  a  dark  wool  dress,  with  no  wrap  over  her,  and 
a  red  cotton  handkerchief  tied,  turban-wise,  about  her  head. 

"  Laws,  Miss  Drowdy,"  she  said,  striding  forward  and  laying 
her  arm  over  the  neck  of  the  Wilson  horse,  and  pulling  up 
his  halter,  which  was  not  yet  in  place,  "dis  yere  kind  of 
work  's  Sally's  work.  Yo'  ain't  gwine  to  do  dis  yere  labor 
while  Sally's  hyar.     Yo'  ladies  go  'long  to  de  house." 

Almina  and  her  sister  left  the  barn  together,  but  Freddy 
refused  to  go  with  them.  He  had  secret  hopes  that  he 
might  induce  this  strange  colored  woman  to  put  him  on 
Thimble.  More  than  that,  he  wanted  to  be  where  he  could 
watch  Sally.  He  had  never  seen  anything  in  the  least  like 
her  before.  She  was  as  strange  to  him  as  if  she  had  been  a 
striped  zebra  from  one  of  his  picture-books  appearing  to  him 
bodily  in  his  father's  dooryard. 

Mrs.  Wilson  continued  to  be  mollified  as  she  walked  be- 
side her  sister  towards  the  house. 

"  So  that's  Sally,  is  it  ?"  she  asked.  "  She  ain't  like  no- 
body that's  ever  be'n  in  Hoyt,  is  she .?  She  looks  big  'n' 
strong  'nough  to  do  every  bit  of  your  work,  Alminy.  But 
mebby  she'll  eat  you  out  of  house  'n'  home,  so  'twon't  be  no 
savin'  to  ye.     I  d'  know  what  you're  goin'  to  do,  for  my  part." 

"  Oh,  I  sh'U  git  'long  well  enough,"  responded  Almina, 
delighted  that  her  sister  was  becoming  more  amiable. 


RETURNING   STRENGTH  311 

"  My  husband  said  there  was  a  dorg,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Wil- 
son;  "'n'  so  I  wouldn't  let  Freddy  bring  his  along  for  fear 
there'd  be  a  fight,  or  something,  and  Freddy  was  so  took  up 
thinkin'  of  the  pony  that  he  give  up  real  easy  'bout  bringin' 
of  his  dorg." 

Evidently  Mrs.  Wilson  could  find  something  to  ameliorate 
the  asperities  of  life  with  her  son,  since  he  had  known  that 
there  was  a  pony  at  his  auntie's. 

As  Almina  placed  her  hand  on  the  latch  of  her  back  door 
her  sister  inquired, 

"  Is  she  real  feeble  ?" 

She  put  this  question  in  a  loud  whisper,  as  if  Temple 
were  within  hearing,  and  would  find  a  whisper  more  agree- 
able to  listen  to  than  the  ordinary  voice. 

"  Is  she  up  'round  ?"  supplemented  Mrs.  Wilson,  in  the 
same  whisper. 

"  Oh  yes,"  replied  Almina,  aloud.  "  I  think  she'll  be  bet- 
ter as  soon  as  she  can  git  rested." 

"But  what's  been  tirin'  of  her?" 

"  She's  been  helpin'  to  hold  meetin's,  you  know." 

"  So  I've  understood  ;  but  I  don't  know  's  I  see  what 
there  is  'bout  holdin'  meetin's  that  should  tire  anybody, 
though  'tain't  woman's  place.  If  she'd  been  to  work,  now, 
I  could  see  why  she  should  be  tired.  Likely's  not  'tain't 
nothin'  but  nerves,  after  all." 

By  this  time  the  two  were  in  the  kitchen. 

"  I  believe  they  do  call  it  nervous  prostration,  or  some- 
thing like  that,"  Almina  answered,  inwardly  wishing,  as  she 
had  wished  hundreds  of  times  in  her  life,  that  her  sister  was 
a  little  different  in  some  ways. 

"But  folks  were  just  as  they  were  made." 

That  was  Almina's  charitable  conclusion  always. 

"Does  she  look  like  her  father  any  ?" 

This  was  the  next  question,  as  Mrs.  Wilson  began  to  un- 
pin her  shawl  and  unroll  her  cloud.  She  had  made  this  in- 
quiry repeatedly  after  her  sister  had  returned  from  Carolina, 
and  had  invariably  received  the  same  reply, 


312  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  I  don't  see  's  she  does,  a  grain." 

"I  always  did  think  Roger  Crawford  was  a  real  good- 
lookin'  man." 

As  Mrs.  Wilson  said  this  the  door  of  the  south  room 
opened,  and  Mrs.  Wilson  directly  began  to  bring  her  face 
into  what  she  would  have  called  her  "  company  look"  if  she 
had  been  called  upon  to  describe  it. 

But  though  the  door  had  opened,  no  one  at  first  ap- 
peared save  a  large  white  dog,  who  came  gravely  forward, 
went  to  the  outer  door  and  put  his  paw  on  it,  looking  at 
Almina  as  he  did  so. 

Almina  let  him  out-of-doors. 

Yucatan  had  been  drilled  much  in  the  attainment  of  cir- 
cumspect manners  since  he  had  travelled  in  many  places 
with  the  Mercers,  and  he  had  responded  intelligently  to  this 
education.  He  had  cheerfully  given  up  his  mountains,  and 
his  free,  out-of-door  life,  but  he  loved  that  life  just  as  much 
as  ever. 

Now  Mrs.  Wilson  hurried  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 
She  felt  an  inextinguishable  curiosity  in  regard  to  everything 
concerning  these  new-comers. 

She  deprecated  their  coming  to  herself,  and  would  take 
that  stand  about  them  to  every  one ;  but  at  the  same  time 
she  was  conscious  of  a  certain  reflected  importance,  as  being 
the  sister  of  the  woman  who  had  these  unusual  beings  in  her 
house. 

"  That's  the  dorg,  ain't  it  ?"  she  now  inquired. 

"Yes." 

"  He'll  eat  a  lot.  Not  that  I  should  begretch  the  victuals 
of  any  live  critter." 

"You  wouldn't  have  to  begretch  the  victuals  of  a  dead  crit- 
ter," responded  Almina,  with  a  rather  sarcastic  laugh. 

"  Ain't  it  funny  that  they  not  only  brought  a  pony,  but  a 
dorg,  too?"  now  remarked  Mrs.  Wilson. 

But  before  any  reply  could  be  made  to  this  interrogation 
there  sounded  in  the  yard  a  shrill  cry  that  might  be  of  terror 
or  of  intense  delight. 


RETURNING    STRENGTH  313 

Both  women  uttered  an  exclamation,  and  at  the  same  time 
the  door  of  the  south  room  opened  again  and  Temple  herself 
appeared,  coming  quickly  forward,  startled  by  the  cry. 

Mrs.  Wilson,  fearing  that  every  sound  came  from  her  son, 
made  a  darting  movement  towards  the  door.  She  was  used 
to  making  these  movements  many  times  a  day.  Little 
Freddy  had  grown  beyond  the  stage  of  swallowing  shoe-but- 
tons, but  his  progress  had  brought  no  relief  to  his  long-suffer- 
ing parent. 

Temple  turned  towards  her  and  caught  her  hand.  She 
laughed  as  she  said, 

"You  needn't  be  alarmed.  That's  your  boy,  isn't  it? 
Don't  you  think  he  is  having  a  good  time  ?" 

There  now  appeared  in  sight  the  head  of  the  white  pony, 
followed  by  his  whole  body.  On  his  bare  back  sat  Frederick 
Wilson,  and  by  him  walked  Sally.  The  yellow  woman  was 
holding  Freddy  firmly  by  one  leg. 

The  boy  saw  the  faces  at  the  window.  He  grinned,  and 
screamed,  and  waved  his  hands,  but  he  could  not  fall  off  be- 
cause of  that  grasp  on  his  leg. 

When  this  exciting  pageant  had  passed  on  to  the  other 
side  of  the  house,  Mrs.  Wilson,  now  in  a  very  amiable  frame 
of  mind,  on  account  of  Freddy's  happiness,  turned  to  exam- 
ine her  sister's  guest. 

"Why,"  she  thought,  in  the  extremest  astonishment,  "  I  do 
believe  I'm  going  to  like  her !" 

Temple  had  sat  down  quietly.  She  was  in  the  blue- 
covered  rocker,  and  the  morning  pallor  of  her  face  was  em- 
phasized by  that  color.  The  thin  face,  the  darkness  under 
the  eyes,  the  painfully  sensitive  lips,  the  still,  firm-looking  chin, 
made  a  combination  that  Mrs.  Wilson  could  not  understand. 

"  You  don't  look  a  bit  like  your  father !"  she  exclaimed. 

"  1  forgot  that  you  knew  him,"  was  the  languid  response. 

Mrs.  Wilson  noted  that  she  betrayed  no  interest  in  her 
father,  and  drew  her  shrewd  conclusions  in  consequence. 

"You're  goin'  to  pick  right  up  here,"  she  began,  heartily. 
"You  can't  help  it.     Hoyt's  called  one  of  the  healthiest 


.314  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

towns  in  the  State  of  Massachusetts.  If  you  want  to  keep 
sick  'tain't  no  kind  of  a  place  to  be  in.  Alminy,"  turning  to 
her  sister,  "  cream  '11  be  real  good  for  Mis'  Mercer.  I  c'n 
send  some  over  every  other  day  jest 's  well 's  not." 

Temple's  gaze  rested  upon  the  woman. 

"  That's  so  good  of  you ;  and  I  particularly  like  cream," 
she  said. 

Mrs.  Wilson's  heart  glowed.  There  was  an  unusual 
throb  to  her  commonplace  pulses.  She  had  a  glimmering 
perception  that  this  was  not  the  kind  of  woman  she  was 
used  to  seeing. 

It  was  curious  to  watch  the  people  who  came  in  during 
the  next  few  weeks ;  and  Miss  Drowdy  had  not  had  so 
many  callers  in  all  her  life  as  in  the  month  following  Tem- 
ple's arrival. 

These  people  came  as  to  a  menagerie.  They  came,  pity- 
ing Almina  Drowdy. 

Temple  said  very  little  to  them.  They  talked  to  her. 
Almost  immediately  those  who  had  special  troubles — and 
who  has  not  ? — told  Temple  those  troubles,  and  she  lis- 
tened, her  eyes  dwelling  with  soft  pity  and  sympathy  on 
their  faces. 

It  was  an  utterly  genuine  pity  and  sympathy,  but  it  was 
a  trained  pity  and  sympathy  as  well.  The  last  three  years 
of  Temple's  life  had  done  the  training. 

When  these  people  left  her  they  could  not  remember  a 
word  she  had  said,  and  yet  they  had  missed  nothing  in  her 
presence ;  and  missed  nothing  in  remembering  the  inter- 
view. 

Meantime,  as  the  April  days  grew  balmier,  Temple  could 
tell  herself  that  she  was  better.  Oh  yes,  thank  God !  she 
was  better. 

Who  but  one  who  has  been  an  invalid  can  understand 
the  rapture  of  such  a  knowledge  ? 

Every  morning  Sally  brought  the  pony,  saddled,  to  the 
back  door,  and  Temple  mounted  him,  Yucatan  loping  back 
and  forth  in  the  yard  in  impatience  to  be  gone. 


RETURNING   STRENGTH  315 

Temple  scoured  the  country  farther  and  farther  afield, 
choosing,  when  she  could,  the  solitary  cart-paths  through 
woods  and  pastures. 

It  seemed  to  her  now  that  a  weight  was  lifting  from  her 
soul.     She  could  see  far  into  the  spring  blue  of  the  sky. 

She  began  to  think  she  would  unpack  her  violin. 

It  was  on  the  day  when  she  was  thinking  of  her  violin 
that,  turning  her  pony  into  a  path  that  led  through  a  chest- 
nut wood,  she  saw  a  man  coming  along  the  path. 

The  man  waved  his  stick  and  whistled  cheerily  to  Yuca- 
tan, calling  the  dog  by  name. 

In  a  moment  Temple  recognized  Yale  Boynton. 


XIX 


"a  little  pleasure" 


BoYNTON  hurried  forward.  The  glow  on  his  face  made 
Temple  think  of  old  days  in  her  old  home. 

"  This  is  almost  as  good  as  Carolina  !"  he  exclaimed,  with 
some  eagerness,  as,  hat  in  hand,  he  came  to  her  side. 
"  Here  is  the  pony,  here  is  the  dog,  and  here  am  I.  Ah, 
Mrs.  Mercer,  can't  we  fancy  that  Pisgah  is  holding  up  a 
majestic  head  somewhere  beyond  those  trees,  and  that  the 
French  Broad  is  down  there .'"' 

Temple  breathed  a  long  breath.     Her  eyes  sparkled. 

"  Oh,  to  think  of  it  !    Oh,  to  dream  of  it !"  she  answered. 

"  Fills  my  heart — "  went  on  Boynton  with  the  quotation. 

Then  he  stopped  suddenly.  It  seemed  as  if,  in  spite  of 
himself,  there  had  come  too  much  feeling  into  his  voice. 

He  put  his  hand  on  Thimble's  neck  and  stroked  the 
sleek  hair.  He  almost  expected  to  see  his  hand  tremble, 
and  he  watched  it  intently  lest  it  should  do  so. 

He  had  come  down  from  Boston  that  he  might  call  on 
Mrs.  Mercer,  and  he  had  arranged  in  his  mind  his  precise 
manner  during  the  interview.  But  just  now,  meeting  her 
thus,  he  feared  lest  this  prearranged  manner  might  slip 
away  from  him. 

He  was  thinking  that  he  was  senselessly  glad,  and  he 
was  also  cynically  asking  himself  why  it  was  that  when  a 
man  was  senselessly  glad  there  was  a  thrill  in  that  joy  that 
a  reasonable  pleasure  rarely  brought.  And  he  was  also 
thinking  that  this  fact  must  be  because  of  the  devil  in  us  all. 

He  wished  that  he  might  feel  like  this  when  he  saw  Amy 
Wallis. 


"a  little  pleasure"  317 

Amy  Wallis  was  the  nicest  kind  of  a  girl,  but  the  sight  of 
this  woman  on  the  white  pony  had  sent  his  blood  along  its 
channels  at  a  rate  that  Amy  Wallis  must  never  know  about. 

And  what  a  delicious  thing  it  is  to  feel  the  blood  start  in 
that  way  ! 

That  writer  spoke  the  truth  who  said  that  we  are  likely 
to  "choose  in  life  that  which  brings  us  most  thrill." 

Certainly  many  of  us  weakly  do  that. 

Boynton  looked  up  at  his  companion  w^hen  he  had  made 
sure  that  his  hand  was  steady  and  that  his  voice  would  also 
be  firm. 

"  How  grateful  I  am  to  see  that  you  are  better  !"  he  said, 
earnestly. 

"  Not  half  as  grateful  as  I  am  to  feel  better,"  was  the  re- 
ply. Then  Temple  added,  in  her  old  way,  "  If  you  had  a 
horse  we  could  gallop  down  this  wood  road." 

In  his  own  mind  Boynton  immediately  flung  away  all 
other  plans  in  the  resolve  to  stay  somewhere  in  the  vi- 
cinity and  ride  with  Temple. 

"  You  know  there's  nothing  in  the  world  I'd  like  better," 
he  answered,  with  that  air  of  exaggeration  which  he  used  to 
covef  his  meaning  sometimes.  "  Perhaps  you'll  let  me  come 
to-morrow  on  the  best  steed  I  can  find  ?" 

"  That  '11  be  so  pleasant !"  Temple  smiled  down  at  the 
man  beside  her.  Her  spirits  were  rising  as  our  spirits  will 
rise  at  anything  which  seems  to  take  us  back  to  a  time 
when  life  was  light  and  careless. 

"  But  where  are  you .''"  she  now  asked,  in  sudden  wonder 
as  to  why  he  had  appeared  thus.  "  And  is  Miss  Wallis 
with  you  ?" 

Boynton  was  gazing  up  at  her.  "  I  am  here,"  he  said, 
"  and  it  is  Mrs.  Mercer  who  is  with  me." 

He  was  careful  not  to  have  too  much  feeling  in  his  voice. 

Perhaps  no  man  knew  better  than  Boynton  how  to  ap- 
proach near,  but  not  too  near,  to  a  woman. 

Temple  felt  that  agreeable  glow  which  comes  to  us  when 
we  are  made  to  feel  that  we  are  giving  pleasure. 


4 

3l8  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  But  where  is  Miss  Wallis  ?" 

"In  Boston." 

"  Is  she  coming  into  the  country  ?" 

"  Perhaps  ;  but  not  until  later." 

"  I  liked  her,"  said  Temple,  with  that  frankness  which 
made  her  so  unconventional  at  times.  "  I  wanted  to  know 
her.     But  I  was  so  ill  then  !" 

Here  the  speaker  shuddered  slightly  but  uncontrollably. 
Her  eyes  clouded.     She  looked  off  down  the  path. 

Boynton  stood  away  a  short  distance.  He  tried  not  to 
see  his  companion's  face ;  it  moved  him  so  in  its  pallor  and 
its  unconscious  appeal. 

He  swore  inwardly  at  Mercer.  He  called  him  a  damned 
idiot  to  have  brought  this  woman  to  this  state.  Letting 
her  pray  and  sing  for  the  rabble  ! 

"  Yes,  damn  him  !" 

Boynton  set  his  teeth  against  his  oaths  that  they  might 
not  be  heard. 

"  But  you  are  getting  well,"  he  said,  gently ;  "  anybody 
can  see  that." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  Do  you  really  think  so  V  turning 
quickly  and  bending  slightly  towards  him.  "You  can't 
imagine  how  I  like  to  have  any  one  tell  me  that  I  seem  to 
be  getting  well.  Of  course  I  know  I  am  gaining.  But  it's 
so  slow.  And  I  have  times  of  such  depression,  and  I  feel 
as  if  I  couldn't  be  of  any  use  to — to  Richard,  you  know; 
and  then  I  have  seasons  when  I  fear  about  my  belief  and 
faith.  But,  of  course,  that  is  because  of  my  ill-health.  You 
see,  a  persons  state  of  health  accounts  for  a  great  deal  of 
what  is  called  mental  trouble  ;  don't  you  think  so,  Mr. 
Boynton  ?" 

"  I  know  it  does." 

Temple  began  to  say  more.  Then  she  hesitated.  She 
laughed  slightly,  but  there  was  something  wistful  in  her 
voice  as  she  spoke  again, 

"  I'm  going  to  be  as  well  as  ever  in  a  few  weeks,  Mr. 
Boynton.     In  the  fall  I  can  join  Mr.  Mercer  in  his  work — 


"a    little    pleasure"  319; 

that  is,  I  can  if  I  keep  my  faith.      I  want   to    keep    my 
faith." 

Boynton  did  not  find  himself  able  to  speak  immediately. 

He  was  feeling  strongly  that  if  this  woman  had  tried  to 
find  some  means  by  which  to  make  herself  more  attractive 
to  him  she  could  not  have  chosen  better  than  to  have  ap- 
peared in  the  guise  of  an  invalid.  But  Boynton  knew  very 
well  that  Mrs.  Mercer  was  not  thinking  of  herself  in  relation 
to  him. 

"  We  all  want  to  keep  our  faith,"  the  man  said,  at  last. 

"  It's  curious,  but  I'm  tempted  to  ask  these  people  whom 
I  meet  here  if  they  really  have  faith,"  went  on  Temple,  still 
with  a  far-away  look.  "  Of  course,  it  is  one  phase  of  my 
illness  —  it  must  be.  I  suppose  Miss  MacCallum  would 
say  that  I  didn't  relax  enough."  Here  Temple  brought  her 
glance  down  to  her  companion,  and  smiled  again.  "  Mr. 
Boynton,  did  you  ever  lie  on  the  floor  and  roll  your  head 
around  ?" 

"  No  ;  but  I  will  if  you  think  I  ought.  Does  the  process 
make  one  have  more  faith  T 

"  Indirectly,  I  suppose.  And  it  tends  to  reduce  abnor- 
mality. I  could  tell  you  a  few  things  that  are  almost  spe- 
cifics against  anything  abnormal.  But  perhaps  your  tenden- 
cies are  not  in  that  direction,  are  they  ?  If  you  could  find 
it  within  the  bounds  of  truth  to  answer  *  yes,'  you've  no 
idea  what  a  comfort  that  answer  would  be." 

"  Yes,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"Oh,  thank  you  so  much!  You  know  we  poor  mortals 
are  made  so  that  if  we  have  small-pox  it  is  a  great  comfort 
to  us  to  find  that  some  one  else  has  it  also." 

Temple's  face  was  gradually  clearing  while  she  spoke, 
until,  as  she  finished,  she  broke  into  a  laugh  which  sounded 
out  in  the  woods  as  Boynton  remembered  her  laugh  to  have 
sounded  in  the  little  boat  on  the  Broad. 

What  infernal  chance  had  made  her  think  she  had  ex- 
perienced religion,  and  then  that  she  must  marry  the 
preacher  ? 


320  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

These  questions  flashed  through  Boynton's  mind  as  he 
joined  in  her  laugh. 

Then  he  seized  the  leading  part  in  the  talk,  and  kept  it 
persistently  upon  the  old  time  when  the  two  had  known 
each  other.  He  called  it  the  "old  time"  with  a  slight  ten- 
derness in  his  voice,  although  hardly  four  years  had  elapsed 
since  his  first  acquaintance  with  her. 

He  saw  her  grow  brighter  and  brighter.  He  had  never 
exerted  himself  more  to  be  entertaining,  and  never  felt 
more  keenly  the  stimulating  certainty  of  success  in  the 
effort. 

His  spirits  rose  intoxicatingly  as  he  walked  through  the 
wood  by  the  pony's  side. 

With  every  moment  that  passed  Temple  seemed  more 
and  more  like  the  girl  whom  he  had  taught  to  play  the 
violin. 

When  they  emerged  from  the  path  into  the  public  high- 
way he  said  that  he  dared  not  keep  Mrs.  Mercer  at  a  foot- 
pace any  longer.  He  begged  that  she  would  allow  him  to 
ride  over  from  the  next  town  where  he  was  stopping,  and 
join  her.     Would  she  let  him  come  to-morrow  ? 

"  Yes." 

"Thanks — a  thousand  thanks."  He  lifted  his  hat.  She 
noted  vaguely  the  happy  gleam  in  his  eyes. 

She  cantered  on  towards  Miss  Drowdy's. 

Boynton  walked  down  the  road.  A  keen  sense  of  life, 
the  inebriating  fulness  of  life,  made  him  step  like  a  king. 

As  for  Temple,  she  set  her  pony  into  a  swift  gallop  \  she 
whistled  to  Yucatan.  The  two  animals  seemed  to  be  run- 
ning away  as  they  fled  down  the  lonesome  road. 

No  one  saw  them  but  the  birds  and  the  chipmunks. 

A  half-hour  later,  when  Temple  rode  into  Miss  Drowdy's 
yard,  Sally  ran  out  and  lifted  her  off  the  saddle. 

"Bress  the  Lawd  1"  she  cried,  fervently,  "  Yo'  done  got 
yer  ole  look  on  1" 

But  Temple  sank  down  on  Sally's  arm,  her  strength  all 
taken,  apparently,  by  her  ride. 


"a  little  pleasure"  321 

A  half-hour's  rest  and  a  cup  of  milk  restored  Temple  so 
that  she  rose  from  her  bed  and  went  to  her  trunk,  which  set 
against  the  wall.  She  opened  it  and  flung  out  the  things 
until  she  came  to  her  violin  case. 

She  set  this  on  her  lap  and  held  it  there  for  some  mo- 
ments, her  eyes  fixed  on  the  window  opposite  her. 

She  was  recalling  the  last  time  she  had  played  it,  and  how 
the  people  had  been  moved  by  the  hymn  she  sung. 

And  she  had  prayed  then.  Well,  she  had  not  prayed 
since.  But  she  should  do  so  some  time.  She  must.  Rich- 
ard did  not  know  that  she  did  not  pray  any  more.  She  had 
finally  told  Mrs.  Ammidown,  told  her  painfully,  as  if  making 
a  confession  of  great  sin,  and  Mrs.  Ammidown  had  laughed 
gently,  and  replied  that  it  was  only  a  matter  of  healthy 
nerves  and  body  generally. 

That  was  just  like  a  physician.  Physicians  ascribed 
everything  to  the  body. 

Temple  took  her  fiddle  from  its  place  and  tuned  it.  Pres- 
ently she  put  it  up  to  her  shoulder  and  began  walking  about 
the  room,  playing,  singing  with  the  music  she  made  : 

"A  little  bird  in  the  air 
Is  singing  of  Thyri  the  Fair, 

The  sister  of  Svend  the  Dane  ; 
And  the  song  of  the  garrulous  bird 
In  the  streets  of  the  town  is  heard, 

And  repeated  again  and  again." 

Temple  sang  this  twice  over.  Then  she  quickly  laid 
down  the  bow  and  violin.  She  walked  to  the  window  like 
one  who  suddenly  discovers  that  he  is  imprisoned,  and  who 
is  wild  to  escape. 

She  threw  up  the  sash  and  put  her  head  out. 

A  mild  air  blew  upon  her.  In  the  distance  a  chickadee 
sang  cheerfully. 

She  let  down  the  sash.     She  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.     Then  she  flung  herself  down  on  the  bed  and  began 
to  weep  as  stormily  as  if  she  were  only  ten  years  old. 
21 


322  AGAINST   HUMAN    NATURE 

Presently  there  was  a  whine  and  a  scratch  outside  the 
door,  which  was  hesitatingly  opened  to  let  the  Newfound- 
land walk  in. 

Temple  raised  her  head.  She  beckoned  to  Yucatan,  who 
trod  solemnly  up  to  her  and  put  his  big  muzzle  to  her  face, 
solicitously  licking  it.  She  pressed  the  shaggy  head  to  her 
bosom,  moaning  as  she  did  so. 

Outside,  Almina  heard  the  sound  of  sobbing,  and  did  not 
know  whether  she  ought  to  intrude  or  remain  where  she 
was. 

But  Sally,  coming  in  from  the  barn  with  the  odor  of  hay 
and  out-of-doors  strong  upon  her,  did  not  hesitate.  She 
strode  up  to  the  closed  door  and  flung  it  open,  her  feet 
shaking  the  little  house  as  she  went  across  the  floor. 

Temple  was  lying  face  down  upon  the  bed,  with  Yuca- 
tan's nose  pressed  up  to  her  neck.  Her  hands  were  flung 
out  and  shut  tightly. 

The  yellow  woman  bent  over  and  lifted  her  mistress  in 
her  arms.  Temple  was  so  pitiably  thin  that  her  weight  was 
not  much,  and  Sally  put  Temple's  head  down  on  her  shoul- 
der after  she  had  gathered  her  closely.  She  walked  about 
the  room  with  her  burden,  saying, 

"  Sh  !  Honey !  Sh  !  Sh  !  De  Lawd's  gwine  fur  to  take 
care  of  yo'.  Fur  shore,  de  Lawd's  gwine  to  do  it.  Yo' 
needn't  worry  more  ;  no,  yo'  needn't.  '  N'  hyar's  ole  Sally. 
Hyar's  ole  Sally,  who  jes'  pintedly  gives  her  worthless  life 
up  ter  yo',  honey.     Sh  !     Sh  !" 

The  husky  voice  was  sweet  and  tender  with  sympathy. 

Temple  began  to  listen  to  it.  It  was  a  voice  she  had  heard 
ever  since  she  could  remember.  It  began  to  comfort  her, 
but  she  was  in  a  paroxysm  of  self-pity,  and  was  feeling  that 
curious  and  unwholesome  enjoyment  that  sometimes  comes 
from  such  a  cause. 

"  My  mother  would  be  sorry  for  me,"  she  whispered  as 
she  lay  on  Sally's  shoulder.  "  I  don't  believe  my  mother 
ever  suffered  as  I  suffer." 

"  'Tain't  no  matter  whuther  she  did  or  not,  Miss  Tem- 


"a  little  pleasure"  323 

pie,"  answered  the  yellow  woman,  with  a  gleam  of  common- 
sense.  "  You's  jes'  sufferin'  'cause  you's  sick,  honey.  But 
you's  gittin'  well  jes'  as  farst — yo'  be." 

Temple  was  silent.  She  was  beginning  to  be  ashamed  of 
herself. 

She  lifted  her  head. 

"  Put  me  down,  Sally,"  she  said  in  a  moment,  somewhat 
sharply,     "  I'm  not  going  to  be  a  baby  any  more." 

Sally  placed  her  burden  in  a  chair,  and  stood  gazing  down 
at  her,  her  big,  strong  face  working. 

Temple  pressed  her  hand  to  the  back  of  her  head.  Her 
features  were  settling  into  something  of  their  natural  appear- 
ance. 

She  smiled  whimsically. 

"  I  reckon  'twas  my  violin,"  she  remarked,  as  if  making 
an  explanation  to  herself.  "  And  you,  Sally,  you've  done 
very  wrong  to  sympathize.  Miss  MacCallum  doesn't  ap- 
prove of  sympathy." 

Sally  grinned.  She  did  not  know  precisely  what  her  mis- 
tress meant,  but  she  knew  enough  to  respond, 

"  Reckon,  den,  yo'  done  better  shoot  Yucatan  hyar." 

Temple  sent  Sally  out  of  the  room.  She  went  to  the  glass 
and  brushed  her  hair,  her  movements  revealing  a  resolution 
and  calmness  which  they  had  not  shown  of  late. 

There  was  a  lustre  in  her  eyes  unlike  the  weak,  feverish 
gleam  which  had  been  there  for  months  past. 

As  she  stood  before  the  mirror  she  thrust  out  her  hand 
and  looked  at  it,  then  glanced  at  the  reflection  of  her  face. 

"  My  soul  shall  be  as  steady  as  my  hand,"  she  was  think- 
ing.    "  I  am  not  going  to  be  hysterical  any  more." 

But  even  as  shte  thought  this  a  weakness  came  over  her, 
the  bodily  weakness  of  muscles  and  sinews  long  out  of 
training. 

She  sat  down  quickly.  She  leaned  her  forehead  on  the 
table  in  front  of  her.  She  was  trembling,  but  her  face  did 
not  relax  into  a  tremor. 

All  at  once  she  became  aware  that  her  forehead  was  not 


324  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

resting  on  the  table  itself,  but  on  an  envelope.  It  was  the 
envelope  containing  Mercer's  last  letter. 

She  raised  herself  and  took  the  letter,  opening  the  sheet 
slowly.  It  had  come  nearly  a  week  ago,  on  a  Monday.  She 
had  not  failed  to  hear  from  him  on  each  Monday  since  he 
had  brought  her  there. 

She  knew  every  word  of  this  letter,  but  she  read  it  again. 

It  was  a  very  friendly  epistle.  All  of  Mercer's  letters  to 
his  wife  were  extremely  friendly ;  and  they  related  every- 
thing the  writer  thought  she  would  like  to  know  ;  they  told 
of  the  minutest  trifle  that  had  reference  to  Temple's  old 
home  among  the  mountains. 

Perhaps  she  did  not  think  that  Mercer  must  have  been  at 
great  pains  to  find  out  everything  about  that  mountain-side. 

Now  she  read  again  a  few  lines  that  made  her  flush  with 
renewed  interest. 

"  You  remember  you  wondered  if  the  old  tree  made  a  little 
landing  for  boats  on  the  Broad  as  it  used  to  do  when  you 
played  the  fiddle  in  young  Boynton's  boat.  I  was  there  the 
other  day.  I  went  down  from  Asheville  in  a  boat.  The  tree 
trunk  has  rotted  away  and  fallen  into  the  river — only  a  bit  of 
it  is  left.  I  was  sorry  when  I  saw  it.  I  knew  how  you  loved 
it.  I  pulled  in  my  oars  and  looked  up  the  slope.  I  saw  the 
smoke  coming  from  the  chimney  of  your  log-house. 

"  I  landed  and  gathered  some  arbutus.  It  is  almost  gone 
now.  The  rhododendron  thicket  by  the  old  tree  trunk  has 
been  cut  away.    Your  tenant  is  putting  in  corn  in  that  field. 

"  I  stood  and  looked  off  at  Pisgah  and  the  Twin  Broth- 
ers. I  wished  you  were  with  me.  I  was  comforted  by  the 
knowledge  that  you  are  getting  well." 

And  so  on. 

Temple's  eyes  took  in  the  whole  ;  then  they  went  back  to 
the  line,  "  I  wished  you  were  with  me,"  and  they  rested  there 
until  the  words  seemed  to  lose  their  meaning,  as  words  will. 

She  suddenly  lifted  her  hand  and  threw  the  paper  from 
her. 

"  I  have  read  it  enough,"  she  said,  aloud. 


"a  little  pleasure"  325 

She  sat  back  in  her  chair  and  tried  to  shut  her  eyes,  but 
the  Hds  burned  so  that  she  allowed  them  to  spring  open 
again. 

She  reached  forward  to  the  table  and  pulled  towards  her 
a  book  which  had  been  in  her  trunk — a  volume  she  had 
once  borrowed  of  Laura  Ammidown  and  had  not  returned. 

The  book  opened  of  itself  at  a  page  where  Temple  had 
often  read  in  the  last  few  months.  Now  she  pronounced 
aloud  the  familiar  words, 

"  That  which  is  not  allotted  the  hand  cannot  reach,  and 
what  is  allotted  will  find  you  wherever  you  may  be." 

"  What  I've  got  to  do,"  said  Temple,  her  will  helping  to 
make  the  face  firm,  "  is  to  accept  my  fate.  I'm  not  going 
to  be  happy.  Happiness  is  not  allotted  to  me.  I'm  not  go- 
ing to  pray  for  it  any  more.  Perhaps  I  never  ought  to  have 
been  so  selfish  as  to  pray  for  my  own  happiness.  What 
does  it  matter — happiness  or  misery  ?" 

Some  swift  change  came  to  the  face  of  the  woman.  It 
lost  all  its  ascetic  stoicism,  and  took  on  a  look  of  soft  brill- 
iance, which  made  it  like  the  face  of  that  mountain  girl  who 
had  welcomed  Almina  Drowdy  to  her  home,  and  who  had 
proclaimed  that  she  was  of  a  cold  nature. 

Temple  rose  and  took  her  violin  again.  She  laid  it 
across  her  knee.  She  half  closed  her  eyes  and  began  to 
play  "  Dissembling  Love,"  the  strains  seeming  to  melt  into 
the  still  air  of  the  room. 

In  the  kitchen  Almina  heard,  and  stopped  picking  over 
the  rice  for  her  pudding.  Her  elderly  heart  gave  a  leap, 
and  then  went  on  beating  at  an  unusual  rate. 

There  seemed  to  be,  all  at  once,  an  air  of  romance  about 
everything.  Before  the  eyes  of  the  old  maid  there  came  a 
picture  of  her  youth,  with  all  its  intoxicating  hopes  and 
thrilling  joys.  For  an  instant  Roger  Crawford  and  she 
were  young  again,  and  he  was  true. 

Almina  put  her  hard-worked,  faithful  hands  over  her  face. 
She  could  actually  fancy  that  the  middle-aged,  common- 
place face  was  radiant  and  beautiful. 


326  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

And  all  because  a  young  woman  in  the  next  room  was 
fiddling  "  Dissembling  Love."  Almina  was  glad  that  her 
sister  was  not  there.  She  had  a  feeling  that  "  Sister  Wil- 
son "  would  have  thought  there  was  something  immoral  in 
a  woman  playing  the  violin  like  that. 

In  a  few  moments  the  strains  stopped. 

Almina  was  trying  to  resume  her  work,  mechanically 
scanning  a  handful  of  rice,  when  Temple  entered. 

"  Oh,  how  much  better  you  do  look  !"  cried  the  elder 
woman. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Temple.  She  advanced  to  Almina's 
side.     She  was  smiling  in  a  confident  sort  of  way. 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you,  Miss  Drowdy,"  she  said,  "  if  a 
person  who  isn't  going  to  be  happy  has  a  right  to  taste  a 
little  pleasure .''" 

"  What  r 

Almina  looked  up  in  a  dazed  way,  and  Temple  carefully 
repeated  her  question. 

She  sat  down  as  she  did  so,  and  took  up  some  grains  of 
rice,  examining  them  with  bright,  undiscriminating  eyes. 

"  I  s'pose  you  call  happiness  and  pleasure  two  different 
kinds  of  things,"  remarked  Almina,  at  last. 

"  Oh,  of  course." 

"  Then  I  tell  you  what  'tis,"  began  the  other,  after  a  short 
pause,  "  I'd  jes'  stick  to  happiness,  even  if  I  was  miserable. 
I'd  let  pleasure  slide." 

Here  Almina  took  Temple's  thin  hand  in  her  own.  Then 
she  laughed  nervously. 

"  But  I  guess  I  'ain't  much  idea  what  you  mearl.  Temple. 
But,  somehow,  you  kinder  scare  me  !  I  d'  know  why,  I'm 
sure.  You  look  jest  's  you  used  to  among  the  mountains — 
only  not  jest  so,  either." 

"  So  you'd  let  pleasure  slide,  would  you  ?" 

Temple  laughed  as  she  sp'oke.  She  looked  at  her  com- 
panion, and  then  she  leaned  nearer  and  kissed  her. 

"  You  needn't  be  scared,  dear  friend,"  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice.      "  If  it's  meant  for  me   to  be  happy,  I   shall  be. 


"a  little  pleasure"  327 

Don't  you  know,  '  that  which  is  not  allotted  the  hand  can- 
not reach  '  ?" 

Having  said  this,  Temple  walked  away  to  the  window 
and  gazed  out  of  it.  But  she  was  not  seeing  the  stretch  of 
rolling  pasture,  with  its  distant  frame  of  pine-trees.  She 
did  not  even  notice  Thimble,  who  had  been  let  out,  now 
caracoling  up  and  down  that  pasture. 

What  the  woman  saw  was  a  different  landscape  :  peak 
rising  beyond  peak  in  a  vivid  moonlight ;  fringes  of  black 
trees  on  some  summits ;  on  the  side  of  one  of  the  moun- 
tains a  log-hut,  used  sometimes  as  a  school-house;  a  crowd 
of  people  in  the  hut ;  a  blazing  fire  of  fatwood  on  the 
hearth,  and  before  the  fire  the  commanding  figure  of  Mercer. 

Temple  was  seeing  all  this,  and  recalling  the  preacher's 
voice  and  words,  the  power  of  his  presence  over  the  as- 
sembly. 

She  had  felt  that  power  many  times  since,  but  this  par- 
ticular evening  was  the  turning-point  of  her  life.  It  was 
then  that  she  had  believed  that  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  had 
come  to  her  and  sanctified  her;  had  given  her  a  new  heart. 
She  had  experienced  religion. 

And  the  months  and  days  and  hours  of  the  three  years 
that  had  followed ! 

Had  she  not  worked  faithfully — nay,  ardently  ? 

And  why,  since  her  strength  had  failed,  had  this  sacred 
work  assumed  a  different  aspect  ? 

The  sacredness  and  value  of  the  work  must  be  just  the 
same. 

It  was  she,  then,  who  had  changed.  But  she  could  not 
allow  her  convictions  to  be  made  different  by  a  state  of  the 
body.  The  body,  even  the  mysterious  nerves,  could  not 
alter  the  relations  between  man  and  God.  The  soul  must 
be  saved.     A  man's  heart  must  be  given  to  God. 

Almina  went  on  with  her  preparations  for  her  pudding. 

She  took  the  rice  to  the  sink  and  began  to  wash  it.  But 
she  was  thinking  of  her  companion,  and  asking  herself 
many  questions  which  she  could  not  answer. 


328  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Suddenly  Temple  spoke,  but  she  did  not  turn  her  face 
from  the  window. 

"  I  met  an  old  friend  to-day,"  she  said. 

''That  so?"  responded  the  other  woman,  who  would  not 
betray  her  curiosity. 

Temple  now  turned,  and  came  and  stood  by  her  friend's 
side  at  the  sink. 

"You  remember  the  French  Broad,  Miss  Drowdy?"  she 
asked. 

"  Oh  yes  !"  with  animation. 

"  And  how  worried  you  were  about  my  going  out  in  a  boat 
with  that  young  man  from  Asheville .'"' 

"Yes." 

"And  how  you  waited  for  me  so  long  on  the  bank  among 
the  rhododendrons.''" 

Here  Temple  laughed  and  Almina  grew  red. 

"I  guess  I  do  remember,"  said  the  elder  woman,  "'n' 
I  guess  you  don't  know  how  queer  things  all  seemed  to 
me  down  there.  But  what  made  you  think  of  that  time 
now  ?" 

"  Because  of  the  old  friend  I  met  this  morning." 

Almina  gave  a  little  start.  She  could  not  understand 
why  such  a  sense  of  fear  came  upon  her.  She  glanced 
quickly  up  at  the  face  near  her. 

"You  mean  you've  seen  that  young  man?"  she  asked. 

"Yes.     I  met  him.     He  was  coming  over  to  see  me." 

"Yale  Boynton  in  these  parts?" 

"He's  living  in  Boston.  I  saw  him  this  spring.  I  saw 
the  girl  he  is  going  to  marry." 

Temple  did  not  know  why  she  so  particularly  wished  to 
mention  Miss  Wallis. 

"  Oh,  did  you  ?" 

"Yes  ;  and  I  liked  her  so  much." 

Almina  seemed  to  have  no  remark  to  make,  though  Tem- 
ple waited  for  some  response. 

"  Mr.  Boynton  is  coming  over  to-morrow  to  ride  with  me," 
she  said. 


"a  little  pleasure"  329 

She  was  conscious  of  a  rising  feeling  of  irritation,  and  was 
surprised  at  the  fact. 

"  I  s'pose  you've  been  lonesome,"  now  remarked  Almina. 

"No,  not  in  the  least,"  Temple  answered,  quickly.  "  I'm 
never  lonesome  with  my  horse  and  my  dog." 

No  response  whatever.  But  what  response  was  Temple 
looking  for  ? 

She  went  and  sat  down  by  the  cook-stove.  She  was  silent, 
trying  to  overcome  her  annoyance. 

"I  s'pose  seein'  Mr.  Boynton  made  you  think  of  your  fid- 
dle," at  last  remarked  Almina. 

"  I  suppose  so.  But  I've  been  thinking  of  my  fiddle  ever 
since  I  began  to  feel  better." 

At  this  point  the  conversation  ceased  entirely,  and  was 
not  resumed  that  day. 

In  the  afternoon  Temple  rode  out  again.  Indeed,  she 
now  spent  more  than  half  of  her  waking  hours  in  the  sad- 
dle. 

The  neighbors  for  a  dozen  miles  in  all  directions  were 
becoming  accustomed  to  the  sight  of  the  white  pony  going 
by,  sometimes  as  if  he  were  running  away,  sometimes  at  a 
gentle  amble,  with  the  woman  on  his  back,  the  Newfound- 
land loping  somewhere  near. 

"  Somehow,  I  can't  make  such  a  sight  seem  kinder  Chris- 
tian-like," said  Aunt  Hitty  Blake,  peering  over  her  glasses  as 
the  pony  flew  by  her  one  morning  while  she  was  at  the  wood- 
pile for  chips.  "  I  do  feel  as  if  we  needed  a  missionary,  or 
something." 

This  last  remark  she  made  to  her  husband  when  she  was 
putting  the  chips  into  the  stove  a  few  moments  later. 

"I  understand,"  replied  Mr.  Blake,  in  his  slow,  judicial 
way,  "  that  that  there  woman  is  a  missionary  herself.  She's 
an  evangelist.  But  I  ain't  accustomed  to  evangelists  with 
ponies  'n'  dorgs  'n'  fiddles,  'n'  them  kind  of  eyes.  I  guess 
I'll  make  an  arrand  over  to  old  maid  Drowdy's  'fore  long." 

And  he  made  his  "arrand,"  together  with  nearly  every- 
body in  the  neighborhood,  as  has  been  stated. 


330  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

The  next  morning  by  ten  o'clock  Boynton  cantered  into 
the  yard. 

He  dismounted,  and  came  in  to  greet  Miss  Drowdy.  He 
was  in  high  spirits. 

Almina  watched  the  two  ride  away.  She  knew  very  well 
what  Aunt  Hitty  Blake  would  say  if  she  saw  the  riders — 
what  Mrs.  Newton  and  all  the  neighbors  would  say. 

But  she  made  up  her  mind  not  to  care  for  what  they  said. 
What  she  really  cared  for  was  the  look  which  had  been  on 
Temple's  face  when  she  had  come  in  the  day  before,  after 
she  had  met  Boynton. 

It  was  the  day  for  Almina  to  write  her  weekly  letter  to 
Mercer.  She  always  wrote  it  between  ten  and  eleven  in  the 
forenoon. 

Just  before  she  signed  her  name  she  paused,  trying  to  de- 
cide whether  she  should  mention  Boynton. 

For  some  reason  she  decided  not  to  do  so. 

It  was  perhaps  a  week  later  that  Sally  was  coming  back 
from  an  errand  to  the  village.  She  was  walking  along  that 
path  through  the  pasture  that  she  and  the  pony  had  taken 
on  their  first  arrival. 

Somebody  called  suddenly, 

"  Sally  !"  in  a  sharp,  imperative  tone. 

The  woman  stopped  short  and  looked  about  her. 

A  man  advanced  from  among  some  pine-trees. 

The  yellow  woman's  face  expressed  overwhelming  sur- 
prise. 

" Goramighty !"  she  cried,  "it's  Mister  Dalvecker!" 

And  it  was  Link — Link,  in  an  ill-fitting  suit  of  ready-made 
clothes  that  made  him  look  like  something  quite  different 
from  his  old  self. 

He  apparently  had  no  intention  of  wasting  any  words  on 
Sally. 

"  Miss  Temple  !"  he  said,  quickly,  nodding  his  head  in  the 
direction  of  the  house.  "  Yo'  ask  her  to  come  out  hyar — 
right  now." 

Sally  turned  to  go. 


"a  little  pleasure"  331 

Link  began  to  walk  back  and  forth. 

"  Tell  her  I  'ain't  no  time  ter  waste.  Tell  her  I  must  see 
her." 

Sally  went  on. 

The  young  man  kept  up  his  walk  in  the  short  space  under 
the  birches.  He  was  watching  the  path  where  Sally  had 
disappeared.  As  he  watched  his  tanned  face  became  as 
pale  as  it  was  possible  for  it  to  be.  His  lips,  under  the  yel- 
low mustache,  kept  twitching  nervously. 

Suddenly  a  deep  flush  rose  to  his  forehead.  He  started 
forward,  taking  off  his  hat  as  he  did  so. 

There  was  Temple  coming  along  the  path.  She  had  not 
lingered  a  moment.  She  came  eagerly,  with  both  hands  out- 
stretched. 

Dalvecker,  holding  her  hands  and  staring  at  her,  ex- 
claimed, 

"  Oh,  Temple,  how  you've  changed  !  You  ain't  happy  ! 
I  war  powerful  feared  you  wa'n't  happy !" 

"  Link  !     Don't !     I've  been  ill,  you  know." 

"  Temple,  yo'  carn't  look  me  in  the  face,  yo'  carn't,  an'  say 
yo're  happy." 

He  did  not  wait  for  her  to  reply.  He  went  on  hurriedly, 
still  holding  her  hands, 

"I  took  it  into  my  head  as  I'd  gurt  to  see  yo'.  I'd  jest 
gurt  to  see  yo'  'fore  I  done  one  thing." 

"  What  thing  ?"  asked  Temple,  who  was  more  moved  at 
sisfht  of  her  old  friend  than  she  wished  to  show.  He  was  a 
part  of  her  young  life — of  that  time  when,  as  she  phrased  it, 
she  was  somebody  else. 

This  emotion  was  something  very  different  from  anything 
evoked  by  a  meeting  with  Boynton. 

"  Come  to  the  house  with  me,  Link,"  she  said. 

"  No,  no.  I'm  gwine  to  stay  right  hyar  fur  ten  minutes. 
I  don't  wanter  see  anybody  else.  I  curm  to  see  you.  I'm 
gwine  to  be  married.  Temple.  Don't  speak.  I  don't  lurv 
her.  But  mar,  she's  set  her  heart.  An'  it  don't  make  no  dif- 
ference to  me.     I  wanted  to  see  yo'  and  tell  yo'  myself  that 


332  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

I  didn't  lurv  her.  But  I  mean  ter  make  a  good  man  to 
her." 

Here  Link  paused. 

He  did  not  stop  gazing  at  his  companion,  and  Temple 
found  it  difficult  to  think  what  to  say  to  him. 

Her  confused  thoughts  would  not  clarify  so  that  she  could 
speak. 

"  I  hope  you'll—" 

"Now  stop,"  he  cried,  "yo'  needn't  talk  that-a-way.  I  do 
wish.  Temple,  that  you'd  been  happy !  God  !  I  d'  know 
who  should  be  happy  ef  'tain't  you  !" 

The  young  man's  voice  vibrated  strangely.  He  was 
afraid  to  try  to  express  the  tumultuous  sorrow  that  Temple's 
appearance  caused  him. 

He  had  been  continually  telling  himself  that,  of  course, 
she  would  be  changed.     But  to  be  like  this — 

"  I'm  getting  well,"  said  Temple,  quietly. 

He  made  no  answer.     He  continued  to  look  at  her. 

"  I  jest  had  to  come  an'  tell  yo',"  he  said,  at  last.  "  I 
couldn't  a-bear  to  have  yo'  think  I'd  be'n  an'  fell  in  lurv  with 
anybody.  She's  a  good  gal,  though.  But  I  don't  lay  out  to 
put  no  pump  in.  I  wanted  to  tell  yo',  Temple."  He  looked 
at  her  wistfully.  She  met  his  eyes  with  that  warm  kindness 
that  was  part  of  her  nature. 

"  It  was  good  of  you  to  tell  me,"  she  answered.  "  And 
I'm  sure  you'll  be  happy,  Link.     Oh,  I  hope  so !" 

"Now  I'll  go." 

He  would  not  stay.  He  gripped  her  hands  hard  and  said 
good-bye. 

She  watched  him  go.  She  remained  a  long  time  among 
the  birches.  And  when  she  came  back  to  the  house  Almina 
was  sure  she  had  been  crying. 


XX 


"  PROOF    ARMOR  " 


"  I  SUPPOSE  you  don't  read  Cherbuliez,  Mrs.  Mercer  ?" 

Boynton  made  this  remark  one  day  in  June.  He  had 
been  riding  all  of  a  long  and  delightful  morning  with  Tem- 
ple. They  had  been  silent  a  great  part  of  the  time.  He 
had  discovered  that  it  was  quite  delicious  to  be  silent  with 
Mrs.  Mercer.  He  had  not  tried  to  find  anything  to  say. 
Occasionally  he  had  glanced  at  his  companion,  but  it  had 
not  happened  that  she  had  glanced  at  him.  When  she  did 
look  at  him  it  was  with  a  full,  serious,  sometimes  a  troubled 
gaze. 

Boynton  had  been  with  Temple  a  great  deal  in  the  last 
two  months. 

He  knew  very  well  that  he  was  what  he  called  in  love 
with  her.  He  thought  of  her  almost  every  \vaking  moment, 
and  he  often  dreamed  of  her. 

There  was  a  subtle  and  thrilling  delight  in  the  very  knowl- 
edge that  he  was  in  the  same  world  with  her.  He  did  not 
trouble  himself  much  about  the  existence  of  Mercer.  He 
was,  as  he  would  have  said,  "  realizing  his  present." 

And  it  is  a  great  gift  to  be  able  to  do  that. 

Of  course  Temple  had  never  loved  Mercer,  a  cast-iron 
fanatic  who  hadn't  a  thought  above  saving  souls. 

But  sometimes  Boynton  had  a  strong  desire  to  discover 
what  Temple  thought  of  her  husband.  He  used  to  discourse 
occasionally  on  the  subject  of  love  and  marriage,  in  an  im- 
personal way. 

At  such  times  Temple  would  listen,  but  she  did  not  often 
express  any  opinion. 


334  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

She  was  recalling  her  old  conviction  that  it  was  a  great 

mistake  to  marry  for  love,  because  love  did  not  always  last. 

Of  late  she  had  caught  herself  quoting  those  old  lines  from 

somewhere  : 

' '  Pray,  how  comes  love  ? 
It  comes  unsought,  unsent: 
Pray,  how  goes  love  ? 
It  was  not  love  that  went." 

Now  she  turned  and  looked  at  Boynton  as  he  put  his 
question  concerning  the  French  author. 

They  had  been  talking  of  marriage  in  general ;  or,  rather, 
he  had  been  talking,  as  he  often  did. 

The  two  riders  sat  on  their  horses  at  the  end  of  a  wood 
road  that  opened  suddenly  into  a  high  pasture.  They  were 
alone  together  save  for  the  presence  of  the  dog,  who  was  sit- 
ting soberly  on  his  haunches  by  the  pony's  side. 

"  No,"  said  Temple, ''  I  don't  read  Cherbuliez.  It  doesn't 
seem  to  me  that  I  read  anything.  I  think  I  never  cared  ex- 
tremely for  reading.  Human  beings,  dogs,  horses,  life — all 
seem  more  interesting  to  me  than  books." 

"Life?  Oh  yes,"  exclaimed  Boynton,  meeting  her  eyes, 
"life  is  enchanting!  Until  this  summer  I  never  knew  how 
enchanting." 

He  spoke  hurriedly,  and  then  he  was  afraid  he  had  ex- 
pressed too  much. 

He  looked  away,  and  spoke  more  calmly. 

"  I  was  going  to  remind  you  of  a  paragraph  :  '  That  there 
are  two  kinds  of  poetry,  that  which  is  born  and  that  which 
is  made ;  that  the  first  is  good,  that  the  second  is  not  worth 
a  rap ;  and  it  is  the  same  with  marriages.'  " 

"I  don't  agree  with  your  author,"  responded  Temple, 
coldly. 

Then  she  said  she  thought  it  was  time  to  go  home.  She 
should  be  late  to  dinner  now. 

Boynton  pressed  his  lips  tightly  together.  A  flush  of  irri- 
tation rose  to  his  face.  He  wanted  to  lash  his  whip  out  into 
the  air  and  hit  something. 


"proof  armor"  335 

But  he  only  silently  acquiesced  in  her  suggestion,  and 
turned  his  horse's  head. 

Their  homeward  route  lay  past  the  Wilson  home.  They 
were  going  at  a  foot's  pace  as  they  came  opposite  the  house. 
The  front  door  opened  suddenly,  and  Mrs.  Wilson  appeared. 
She  beckoned.     The  two  drew  in  their  horses. 

"  I  jest  want  er  speak  to  you,  Mis'  Mercer,  a  minute,"  she 
said. 

There  was  such  an  air  of  resolution  in  manner  and  voice 
that  Temple  involuntarily  was  conscious  of  a  slight  inward 
opposition. 

But  she  nodded  assent,  and  Boynton,  lifting  his  hat  mark- 
edly to  Mrs.  Wilson,  rode  away. 

Thimble  walked  up  the  path  to  Mrs.  Wilson's  very  door, 
coming  safely  between  flower-beds  because  he  was  a  pony. 

His  rider  slipped  off  on  to  the  step. 

"  You  seem  to  be  'bout  well  now,  don't  ye  ?"  asked  the 
woman,  as  she  led  the  way  into  the  parlor,  and  pulled  up 
one  curtain  a  little  way. 

"  I'm  much  better,"  answered  Temple,  feeling  a  sense  of 
battle  in  the  air,  and  bracing  herself. 

When  the  two  women  sat  down  opposite  each  other  Mrs. 
Wilson's  heart  began  to  sink. 

She  had  been  saying  to  her  husband  that  she  would  cer- 
tainly speak  to  Temple,  and  her  husband  had  invariably 
responded  by  telling  her  she  would  be  a  fool  if  she  did. 

"  It's  gittin'  to  be  real  pleasant  ou'  doors,  ain't  it  ?"  she 
now  said,  feebly. 

Yes,  Temple  thought  it  was  lovely.  She  no  longer  had 
any  inclination  to  say  "  lurvly." 

"  I  s'pose  your  husband  '11  be  a-sendin'  for  you  'fore  long, 
won't  he  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  came  to  stay  all  summer  with  Miss 
D  rowdy." 

Having  said  this,  Temple's  face  suddenly  changed.  She 
smiled  and  asked, 

"Are  you  thinking  it  is  time  for  me  to  go?    Is  your  sister 


336  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

tired  of  me?  I  thought  Sally  was  doing  very  well  in  her 
help  with  the  work." 

"  'Tain't  that,"  burst  out  Mrs.  Wilson,  explosively.  "  Don't 
ye  know  folks  are  talkin'  dretfully .?" 

Temple  grew  pale  as  she  gazed  at  her  companion. 

"  Talking  T'  she  said,  vaguely.  She  had  never  in  all  her 
life  thought  whether  people  "  talked  "  or  not. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson,  who  was  rolling  up  the  hem  of 
her  apron  and  unrolling  it  with  great  rapidity.  "  'Bout  you, 
you  know.  I  told  Mr.  Wilson  I  was  bound  to  speak  to  you. 
I  knew  you  wa'n't  thinkin'  no  evil." 

"Thinking  evil?" 

Temple  felt  the  pulses  in  her  throat  swelling. 

"  Yes,  I  knew  it.  I  tried  to  make  Alminy  say  something 
to  you,  but  she  said  there  was  one  thing  she  wouldn't  do, 
and  that  was  speak  to  you  'bout  folks  talkin'." 

"  What  do  they  say  ?" 

Mrs.  Wilson  hesitated.     Temple  repeated  her  question. 

"They  say" — here  the  speaker  summoned  all  her  cour- 
age— "they  say  that  you  'n'  that  young  man  seem  too  inti- 
mate. Why,  old  Mr.  Blake  told  my  husband  only  yisterdy 
that  if  you'd  got  a  husband  anywhere  he'd  better  be  sent  for. 
'N'  he  said  that  if  you  had  got  one  he  guessed  he  didn't  care 
much  what  did  happen  to  you.  'N'  Mrs.  Lemuel  Lane  said 
day  before  yisterdy  that  Alminy  ought  to  know  what  kind  of 
a  woman  she  was  a-harborin'." 

Mrs.  Wilson  paused  to  take  breath. 

She  had  not  intended  to  speak  just  like  this,  but  after  she 
had  begun  she  was  conscious  of  a  strong  desire  to  justify 
herself  for  mentioning  the  subject  at  all.  Besides,  as  she 
now  remarked,  she  was  only  telling  the  simple  truth,  and  not 
half  the  truth,  either. 

"They  say,"  she  went  on,  recklessly,  "that  that  young 
man's  got  a  girl  down  to  Bawston  somewhere.  All  I  c'n 
say,  if  he  has,  I'm  mighty  sorry  for  her.  He  round  here  a 
takin'  off  his  hat,  'n'  a  smilin',  'n'  a  scrapin',  's  if  we  could  be 
swallered  whole !" 


"proof  armor"  337 

Mrs.  Wilson  was  quite  carried  away  by  the  interest  her 
subject  excited  in  her  now  she  was  fairly  launched  upon  it. 

Temple  had  risen.     She  now  turned  towards  the  door. 

"Where  you  goin'  ?"  quickly  asked  Mrs.  Wilson. 

"I'm  going  back  to  Miss  Drowdy's,"  was  the  answer. 

Mrs.  Wilson  hurried  round  in  front  of  her  guest. 

"You  mad  with  me?"  she  asked. 

Hardly  knowing  that  she  did  so,  she  took  Temple's  hand, 
which  was  cold  through  her  glove. 

Temple  looked  at  her  in  silence.  She  exerted  herself  to 
bring  her  mind  to  answer  the  question. 

"  Oh  no,"  she  said.  "  I  am — I  am  greatly  surprised.  I 
wonder  if  people  are  right  when  they  talk  like  that  about  me  ?" 

"  No  !  no  !  Of  course  they  ain't  right !"  was  the  violent 
reply. 

"  I'm  going  to  ask  Miss  Drowdy,"  said  Temple.  * 

Mrs.  Wilson  clutched  at  her  companion  again. 

"  No,  no,  don't  ask  her  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  If  you  do  she 
never  '11  git  over  my  speakin'  to  you.  She  thinks  such  a  lot 
of  you !" 

"I  shall  have  to  ask  her,"  repeated  Temple. 

Mrs.  Wilson  sat  suddenly  down  in  the  nearest  chair. 

"  You  mustn't  tell  her  I've  said  anything,  then." 

Temple  paused  an  instant. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "I  won't  tell  her." 

She  opened  the  door  and  walked  out  of  the  room.  But 
she  returned  immediately,  standing  just  within  the  door,  and 
looking  at  the  woman  sitting  there. 

"  I  want  to  say,"  began  Temple,  hesitatingly,  "that  I  can't 
believe  you  think  I've  been  doing  anything  wrong — that  is, 
anything  very  wrong."  The  pronouncing  these  words  was 
a  penance  that  Temple  was  resolved  to  perform. 

"  Course  I  don't,"  was  the  eager  reply.  "  I  tell  um  you're 
jest  kinder  thoughtless,  'n'  don't  mean  nothin'." 

"  No,"  said  Temple,  still  intent  upon  the  penance,  "  I'm 
not  thoughtless  ;  and  I  meant  to  have  some  kind  of  amuse- 
ment or  pleasure." 


22 


338  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

Mrs.  Wilson's  jaw  fell  as  she  looked  at  Temple  standing 
there. 

"You  meant  to?"  she  gasped,  rather  indefinitely. 

"  Yes.     Now  I'm  going." 

Temple  hurried  away.  She  scrambled  up  into  the  saddle, 
and  Mrs.  Wilson  saw  her  gallop  down  the  road. 

Mr.  Wilson  turned  from  a  closet  where  he  was  trying  to 
find  a  paper  of  late  beans  for  planting.  He  glanced  at  his 
wife. 

"What  in  thunder  you  be'n  up  to  now?"  he  asked,  " 'n* 
where  be  them  yeller-eyed  beans,  anyway  ?" 

Mrs.  Wilson  answered  the  last  question  first. 

"They're  on  the  top  shelf  to  your  left  hand,  marked 
Y.  E." 

"  The  devil !  I've  be'n  to  that  paper  bag  half  a  dozen 
times,  'n'  I  thought  'twas  Young  Eagle  tomatuses. " 

"You  ain't  very  bright,"  was  the  response.  "Beans  don't 
feel  much  like  tomato  seed.  Wall,  I've  been  and  spoke  to 
her,  jes'  's  I  said  I  would." 

Mr.  Wilson  stepped  down  from  the  chair  on  which  he  had 
been  standing. 

As  he  did  so  the  paper  bag  he  held  in  his  hand  burst  open, 
and  the  yellow  eyes  scattered  on  the  floor. 

"  You  was  more  of  a  darn  fool  than  common,  then,"  he 
remarked,  with  husbandly  frankness. 

Then  his  curiosity  got  the  better,  and  he  asked, 

"What  d'  she  say?" 

"  She  said  she  hadn't  done  it  thoughtlessly,  but  on  pur- 
pose." 

"Done  what?"  with  masculine  obtuseness. 

"  Do  be  as  bright  as  you  can,  Mr.  Wilson,"  returned  his 
wife.     Then  her  temper  triumphed,  and  she  snapped, 

"  Done  nothin',  you  great  gump  you  !" 

And  she  flounced  out  of  the  room. 

Thereupon  Mr.  Wilson  went  clumsily  down  on  his  knees 
to  gather  up  the  yellow-eyed  beans. 

Temple,  riding  swiftly  along  in  the  beautiful  solitude  of 


"proof  armor"  339 

the  country  road,  seemed  to  herself  not  to  be  thinking  of 
anything  definitely. 

It  appeared  to  her,  not  that  Mrs.  Wilson's  words  had  ef- 
fected anything,  but  that  the  time  had  come  for  a  crisis. 

As  she  turned  into  Almina's  yard  she  heard,  through  an 
open  window,  Almina's  thin,  piercing  treble  singing : 

"  So  noble  a  Lord 

None  serves  in  vain  ; 
For  the  pay  of  my  love 
Is  my  love's  sweet  pain. 

"  In  the  place  of  caresses 
Thou  givest  me  woes  ; 
I  kiss  thy  hands 

When  I  feel  their  blows," 

Temple  stopped  her  pony  and  leaned  forward  to  his  neck, 
listening  for  the  rest  of  the  words.  She  knew  them  well ; 
it  was  she  who  had  taught  the  old  Sequidilla  to  Miss  Drowdy, 
whose  imaginative,  pious  mind  had  absorbed  the  lines  and 
their  meaning  immediately. 

The  singer  cleared  her  voice,  and  then  went  on,  at  a 
higher  pitch  than  before  : 

"  I  die  with  longing 
Thy  face  to  see  ; 
And  sweet  is  the  anguish 
Of  death  to  me. 

' '  For  because  Thou  lovest  me, 
Lover  of  mine, 
Death  can  but  make  me 
Utterly  Thine  !" 

The  mingling  of  what  seemed  like  human  passion  with 
sacred  longing  gave  a  strange  power  to  these  old  verses,  a 
power  not  dependent  upon  the  skill  with  which  they  might 
be  sung. 

As  Almina  ceased  singing  she  came  forward  to  the  open 
door. 


340 


AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 


"That  you?"  she  asked,  blushing  at  having  been  heard. 
*'  I've  been  keepin'  the  lamb-stew  hot  for  3'ou." 

Sally  stepped  out  of  the  woodshed,  walked  up  to  her  mis- 
tress, and  took  her  from  the  pony. 

"  He's  been  a-waitin'  fur  yo',  honey,"  she  said,  in  a 
whisper. 

Temple  shrank  as  she  asked,  "Who  is  waiting?" 

"  ]\Ir.  Boynton,  ob  co'se.  He  say  I  needn't  tell  Miss 
Drowdy.     He's  under  de  pine." 

Temple  stood  hesitating  an  instant. 

The  pine-tree  was  on  a  knoll  at  the  back  of  the  house. 
She  had  sat  there  several  times  with  Boynton. 

After  a  moment  she  walked  there  now. 

Boynton  rose  from  the  bench  at  the  tree  trunk. 

"  I  forgot  to  ask  you  to  set  the  hour  for  our  ride  to-mor- 
row," he  said,  as  she  approached.  "  I — "  Here  he  paused 
suddenly,  not  finishing  his  sentence. 

"  What  has  happened?"  he  asked,  quickly. 

A  color  was  rising  to  his  face.  He  clasped  his  riding- 
stick  with  both  hands,  fearing  that  his  hands  might  tremble. 

There  was  something  in  the  aspect  of  the  w^oman  before 
him  which  made  her  more  intoxicatingly  attractive  than  she 
had  ever  been.  And  these  weeks  of  companionship  with 
her  had  gradually  undermined  his  resisting  power. 

Besides,  he  was  not  a  man  who  intended  to  resist  forever. 
There  is  to  many  fastidious  natures  almost  as  much  enjoy- 
ment in  a  certain  sort  of  combat  as  in  the  yielding.  And 
there  is  always  before  these  natures  the  thought  of  the  hour 
of  surrender. 

Directly  now  as  he  looked  at  Temple,  Boynton  knew  that 
he  could  not  help  the  coming  of  some  words  he  had  thus  far 
rigidly  held  back. 

As  Temple  did  not  immediately  reply,  Boynton  repeated 
his  inquiry ;  but  before  she  could  speak  he  advanced  a  step 
and  said,  almost  in  a  whisper, 

"  Do  sit  down." 

Temple  obeyed. 


"  PROOF   ARMOR  "  34I 

Yucatan  had  come  with  her,  and  now  placed  himself  be- 
side her. 

She  glanced  at  him,  and  suddenly  started  to  her  feet. 

"  I  don't  want  him  to  be  here  now  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  I 
cannot  have  my  dog  with  me  now !"  Then,  seeing  her  com- 
panion's uncontrollable  look  of  surprise,  if  not  alarm,  she 
resumed  her  seat,  smiled  constrainedly,  and  said, 

"You  know  one  cannot  account  for  the  whims  of  a  ner- 
vous woman." 

Boynton,  who  had  also  seated  himself,  now  rose. 

"  You  are  tired,  Mrs.  Mercer.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  go  ? 
Only,"  with  a  change  of  voice,  "  it  is  very  hard  to  go." 

She  looked  up  at  him  as  she  responded, 

"You  may  stay — a  moment." 

She  turned  to  the  dog  again. 

"Yucatan,"  she  said,  "  go — go  back  to  the  house  !" 

As  the  dog  slowly  rose  his  mistress  bent  down  to  him 
with  a  quick,  ardent  movement,  and  pressed  his  head  between 
her  hands  in  a  way  she  had  when  caressing  him. 

Yucatan  gazed  up  wistfully  at  her. 

Then  he  w^alked  deliberately  towards  the  house,  and  dis- 
appeared through  the  open  door. 

Temple  gazed  after  him  with  an  intenseness  for  which 
Boynton  could  not  account. 

Then  she  turned  towards  the  man  near  her,  and  seemed 
to  be  waiting  for  him  to  speak. 

He  did  not  at  first  find  it  possible  to  say  a  word. 

For  some  indescribable  reason  to  him  their  attitude  tow- 
ards each  other  seemed  now  full  of  a  sweet  significance. 
And  yet  nothing  had  happened,  apparently. 

Was  it  merely  that  the  hour  had  struck  ? 

This  was  what  Boynton  asked  himself.  And  he  longed 
to  know  what,  just  now,  this  woman  was  asking  herself. 

And  why  had  she  sent  away  the  dog.-* 

The  excitement  upon  him  was  growing  so  intensely  pene- 
trating that  he  felt  that  he  could  not  much  longer  keep  up 
any  semblance  of  calmness. 


342  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

He  leaned  forward  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  his  hands 
still  grasping  his  stick. 

"  Somehow  I  didn't  feel  as  if  I  could  speak  to  any  one — 
not  even  Miss  Drowdy,"  he  said,  "  so  I  rode  up  that  cart- 
path,  and  left  my  horse  hitched  down  there  while  I  waited. 
Sally  said  she  would  tell  you." 

He  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  triumph  in  the  appear- 
ance of  intimacy  at  which  these  words  hinted.  And  he 
watched  Temple  to  see  if  she  resented  this  intimacy.  But 
her  face  told  him  nothing.  It  was  downcast;  the  thick, 
light  lashes  seemed  to  veil  more  than  her  eyes. 

Still  he  allowed  himself  to  fancy  something  to  suit  his 
own  wishes. 

She  had  never  snubbed  him.  She  had  had  plenty  of  op- 
portunity to  do  so.  Therefore — here  his  vanity  rose  confi- 
dent. 

"  I've  made  a  mistake — a  horrible  mistake,"  he  suddenly 
exclaimed,  with  some  violence,  rushing  pell-mell  into  a  sub- 
ject which  he  had  been  longing  to  mention  to  Temple. 

She  now  turned  slightly  towards  him,  but  she  did  not 
raise  her  eyes  as  she  said, 

"  We  are  always  making  mistakes,  I  think." 

"Yes,  I  know.     But  this  is  a  very  bad  one." 

He  put  his  hand  into  the  inner  pocket  of  his  coat  and 
drew  out  a  letter.     He  extended  it  towards  her,  saying, 

"  This  note  came  to  me  two  days  ago.  Mrs.  Mercer,  will 
you  read  it  ?" 

Temple  just  glanced  at  the  writing  on  the  envelope.  She 
drew  back  a  little,  and  made  a  sign  of  negation. 

"Then  I  will  tell  you,"  hurriedly — "  I  must  tell  you,  Mrs. 
Mercer.  Miss  Wallis  wrote  this  note.  There  are  not  many 
words  in  it.  She  says  she  is  convinced  that  it  will  be  better 
to  discontinue  our  engagement." 

"Oh!" 

Temple's  voice  uttered  the  exclamation  sharply.  She 
threw  back  her  head,  and  her  eyes  flashed  over  her  com- 
panion.    But  they  seemed  to  flash  in  dew. 


"proof  armor"  343 

"  She  loves  you,"  she  said.     Her  voice  trembled. 

Boynton's  head  drooped.  He  knew  very  well  that  Amy 
Wallis  loved  him  ;  but  how  could  that  be  helped  ?  Still,  it 
was  unfortunate.  But,  however  unfortunate,  a  man  never 
grieves  too  much  because  some  woman  loves  him,  even  when 
he  cannot  return  that  love. 

"And  I,"  began  Boynton — "I  thought  I  loved  her.  I 
have  a  sincere  affection  for  her.  Mrs.  Mercer — "  Here  a 
pause  that  was  full  of  meaning.  He  went  on  now  quickly, 
like  a  horse  who  breaks  from  a  hesitating  trot  into  a  full 
gallop : 

"  Mrs.  Mercer,  perhaps  I'm  going  to  offend  you.  I  can't 
help  it.  I  can't  see  you  another  hour  just  as  a  mere  friend. 
I  tell  you  " — in  a  more  intense  tone — "  I  tell  you,  it  is  be- 
yond human  endurance  to  go  on  in  this  way.  I  thought  I 
could  bear  it ;  I  thought  I  could  not  live  without  it — the 
seeing  you,  you  know.  Only  to  have  the  right  to  meet  you 
just  as  all  others  meet  you.  I  was  sure  I  could  endure  that, 
and  be  thankful  for  that.     Well—" 

Here  Boynton  arose  and  stood  in  front  of  Temple,  gazing 
down  at  her,  his  eyes  emphasizing  his  words  dangerously. 

He  was  silent  an  instant,  the  silence  enveloping  the  two 
in  that  wonderful  way  which  is  so  much  more  powerful  and 
insinuating  than  words  can  be. 

Boynton  looked  at  Temple's  hands  lying  clasped  in  her 
lap.  He  did  not  quite  dare  to  take  possession  of  them.  He 
had,  possibly,  already  dared  too  much. 

He  had  long  prided  himself  upon  not  having  Puritanic 
ideas  about  anything.  He  did  not  have  Puritanic  ideas  con- 
cerning marriage.  And,  moreover,  he  was  sure  that  there 
was  no  love  between  Richard  Mercer  and  his  wife.  He  did 
not  think  there  ever  had  been.  He  understood  their  mar- 
riage well  enough.  It  must  have  turned  out  a  horrible  mis- 
take for  the  wife. 

This  belief  and  these  thoughts  were  confusedly  in  the 
man's  mind  now  as  he  stood  there  in  front  of  Temple. 

And  he  was  growing  more  and  more  bewildered. 


344 


AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 


He  was  not  so  unsophisticated  as  to  think  that  a  woman's 
silence  always  means  assent.  He  knew  very  well  that  it 
may  mean  revulsion  and  repulsion. 

"  You  know  I  loved  you  when  we  used  to  meet  on  the 
French  Broad,"  he  said.  "  I've  loved  you  ever  since  I  knew 
you.  xA-nd  I  cannot  help  it.  There  are  some  things  that 
are  stronger — that  overcome  us,  Temple  !" 

He  bent  down  towards  her,  and  put  out  a  hand  to  touch 
her. 

She  did  not  shrink  away,  but  she  looked  up  at  him,  and 
his  hand  dropped  to  his  side. 

"  Oh,  I  love  you  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  You  must  have  known 
it  all  this  time !  You  must !  And  you  are  not  going  to  be 
cruel  to  me  now  ?" 

Again  he  came  nearer  to  her.  This  time  he  put  his  hand 
on  her  clasped  fingers. 

"  Please  don't  touch  me,"  she  said. 

He  drew  back.  His  face  became  almost  purple  as  he 
gazed  down  at  her.  He  raised  his  head,  that  his  breath 
might  come  more  easily.  But  he  could  not  find  the  power 
to  withdraw  his  eyes  from  her  face. 

"  It's  all  my  fault,"  she  said,  at  last. 

"  It's  your  fault  that  I  love  you,"  he  said,  eagerly,  "because 
you  are  what  you  are.     But  you  can't  help  that." 

"Yes,  it  is  my  fault,"  Temple  repeated. 

She  unclasped  her  hands  and  put  one  of  them  to  the  back 
of  her  head,  pressing  it  there. 

"  I  wanted  to  try  to  find  something  to  amuse  me,"  she  said. 

"What?" 

The  blood  left  the  man's  face.     His  nostrils  dilated. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?" 

"  I  wanted  to  be  amused,"  she  repeated,  "  and  I  thought 
that  was  your  wish  also.  Other  women  seem  to  find  amuse- 
ment this  way." 

"  But  you  ?"  harshly. 

"  Oh,  don't  make  me  say  it  1"  piteously,  still  with  her  hand 
to  her  head. 


"proof  armor"  345 

She  was  now  looking  full  into  Boynton's  eyes. 

He  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  have  found  a  word  to  de- 
scribe what  he  saw  in  those  eyes. 

He  was  tingling  with  the  raging  of  mortified  vanity,  and 
with  what  he  called  a  love  repulsed.  He  was  beside  him- 
self with  the  intensity  of  his  anger  and  humiliation.  And 
in  the  midst  of  it  all  he  still  felt  the  same  attraction  to  this 
woman — the  charm  which  one  personality  sometimes  has  for 
another. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  say  it.     Don't  mind  my  feelings." 

He  laughed.  He  wanted  to  laugh  ferociously.  "  Did 
you  find  it  entertaining,  Mrs.  Mercer  ?" 

"  No,"  she  answered,  still  in  the  same  piteous  way. 

"  Dull,  perhaps  ?"  with  suppressed  fury,  and  that  self- 
scorn  which  a  vain  man  finds  the  very  worst  thing  to  endure. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "very  dull." 

"  And  I  wasn't  even  amusing  ?" 

Temple  looked  about  her  as  if  seeking  something  she  did 
not  find. 

"  Other  women,  they  say,  like  to  have  admirers,"  she  went 
on.  "I  hoped  the  seeing  you  would  take  up  my  mind  — 
turn  it  in  another  channel.  They've  told  me  I  must  turn 
my  mind  in  another  channel.  Miss  MacCallum  insisted 
upon  that.  She  thought  I  was  morbid,  abnormal.  I  was 
so  different  from  her,  you  see,  that  I  must  be  abnormal." 

"  Your  playing  with  me  proves  you  to  be  strictly  womanly 
and  normal." 

Boynton  spoke  bitterly  enough,  but  he  was  getting  him- 
self a  little  in  hand. 

"  Playing  with  you  ?"  She  looked  at  him  beseechingly. 
"  Oh  no,  I  didn't  do  that." 

"Didn't  you?" 

"No." 

Boynton  turned  away.  He  went  a  short  distance  down 
the  slope  of  the  knoll.  He  had  never  been  so  bewildered 
in  his  life.     And  he  thought  he  had  never  suffered  so  much. 

He  came  back  again. 


346  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 


(( 


I  seem  to  be  a  failure  in  every  particular,"  he  said.     "  I 
didn't  even  furnish  you  with  amusement." 

Temple  did  not  reply. 

"  Why  did  you  send  Yucatan  away  ?" 

Boynton  put  this  question  suddenly. 

"  Because  " — Temple  blushed  painfully — "  because  he  is 
so  loyal  and  noble.     I  was  ashamed  before  him." 

"  And  you  are  not  loyal  ?" 

"  Oh  no.  I — I  hardly  know  what  I  am.  But  in  my  heart 
I  am  loyal." 

"If  you  ever  love,"  began  Boynton,  "you  will  then  know  " 
what  suffering  is." 

"  Shall  I  ?" 

"  Yes — a  thousand  times,  yes." 

"  Oh,  that  is  what  I  always  said,"  exclaimed  Temple,  dis- 
tressfully. "  My  mother  was  wretched  because  she  loved 
my  father.     She  told  me  true  !     She  told  me  true  !" 

"  What  did  she  tell  you  ?" 

Boynton  could  not  help  asking  this  question.  And  he 
waited  for  the  answer  with  absorbing  interest. 

"  That  I  must  never  marry  for  love." 

"  Ah !" 

The  man's  eyes  flashed. 

"And  you  obeyed  her?" 

Temple  tried  to  recover  her  self-control. 

She  glanced  towards  the  house,  hoping  to  see  Sally  or 
Miss  Drowdy  approaching. 

She  asked  herself  in  dismay  where  was  her  old  spirit,  her 
old,  fiery  independence.  Was  that  girl  who  rode  among  the 
mountains  gone  forever? 

"  You  haven't  any  right  to  ask  me  such  a  question,"  she 
said,  at  last. 

"  No ;  not  the  least  right  in  the  world,"  said  Boynton^ 
savagely,  "but  I  ask  it  all  the  same." 

Silence  on  Temple's  part.  She  leaned  heavily  against 
the  tree  trunk. 

"  What  sort  of  a  woman  are  you  ?"  he  cried. 


«' 


Si 


"proof  armor  347 

"  A  cold-blooded  being,  who  means  to  take  life  easily," 
was  the  reply,  in  a  mechanical  voice. 

"  That  is  false.  No  one  can  believe  that,"  Boynton  broke 
out.  "  You  can  love.  Nature  never  gave  those  eyes  to  a 
woman  who  could  not  love.  And  I  have  heard  you  sing, 
I  have  heard  you  play  the  violin.  Oh,  Temple "  —  his 
voice  breaking  with  emotion — "do  you  remember  those 
days  ?" 

Temple's  head  was  thrown  back  against  the  trunk  of  the 
pine ;  her  lips  were  parted ;  her  eyes  upon  Boynton. 

And  yet,  somehow,  there  was  a  remoteness  in  her  aspect 
that  chilled  the  man. 

He  was  not  one  who  readily  believed  appearances  that 
were  adverse  to  him. 

"  I  remember  them,"  she  said. 

"  And  can  you  be  hard  to  me  ?  You  have  been  playing 
with  me  ?     Oh,  that  is  incredible!" 

Temple  said  nothing.  She  was  very  pale.  Her  lips 
seemed  to  be  growing  stiff. 

"  I  love  you  so !"  Boynton  suddenly  murmured,  in  a  be- 
seeching way.  Then,  with  a  bitter  after-thought,  "  And  I 
have  not  even  amused  you !" 

Temple  put  her  hand  on  the  arm  of  the  bench  and  helped 
herself  to  rise  to  her  feet. 

"  I  think  I  will  go  into  the  house,"  she  said. 

Boynton  stepped  forward  coldly.  "  Let  me  help  you,"  he 
said. 

But  she  shook  her  head. 

She  walked  slowly  forward.  Boynton  stood  watching  her. 
When  she  had  nearly  reached  the  door  she  turned  and 
looked  at  him.  Her  lips  moved.  He  thought  she  said, 
"  Forgive  me." 

He  hurried  down  the  slope,  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode 
away. 

"  What  a  blind  fool  I  have  been !  What  a  blind  fool  I 
have  been !" 

He  shouted  these  words  aloud  to  the  solitude.    He  had  a 


348  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

wish  to  torture  himself  physically  that  he  might  forget  his 
wounded  vanity. 

She  had  tried  to  amuse  herself,  but  she  had  not  suc- 
ceeded even  in  that  attempt. 

He  had  never  for  one  instant  suspected  the  truth.  He 
would  have  suspected  any  one  in  the  wide  world  sooner  than 
this  woman — even  Amy.  / 

As  the  thought  of  Amy  came  to  him,  it  was  as  if  a  cool 
and  comforting  hand  were  laid  on  a  burning  wound. 

Of  course  he  did  not  deserve  to  be  comforted,  but  he 
longed  for  comfort  as  strongly  as  if  he  deserved  it,  for  that 
is  the  way  of  poor  human  beings. 

Before  nightfall  Boynton  was  entering  Boston.  He  had 
taken  the  first  train  to  that  city. 

In  the  first  part  of  the  journey  he  was  thinking  that  he 
would  tell  Amy  everything;  in  the  latter  part  he  decided 
that  it  was  quite  unnecessary.  He  would  go  back  to  his 
betrothed  with  such  eagerness  that  she  would  understand 
that  she  was  dearest  of  all  the  world  to  him.  She  would 
certainly  understand  that  after  a  while. 

His  self-love  would  soon  be  rehabilitated  in  the  atmos- 
phere of  her  loving  admiration.  And  he  was  right  in  his 
calculation. 

Temple,  when  she  reached  the  door  of  the  kitchen,  paused 
and  leaned  against  it. 

Miss  Drowdy  was  standing  by  the  stove  stirring  something 
in  a  kettle. 

She  glanced  up  and  dropped  the  spoon. 

"  Why,  Temple  !"  she  exclaimed. 

She  ran  forward  and  put  her  arm  about  her  guest.  She 
led  her  to  the  bedroom  and  saw  her  lie  down. 

"You  mustn't  git  so  faint!"  exclaimed  Almina.  "Here, 
'tis  two  hours  after  your  dinner-time.  I'll  bring  you  a  beat- 
up  egg." 

But  Temple  clung  to  her  friend's  hand. 

"  Wait,"  she  said. 

"  No,  I  sha'n't  wait." 


"proof  armor"  349 

"  But  I  want  to  say  something  to  you." 

Almina  was  at  the  door.     She  paused  to  answer. 

"  You  may  say  it  when  I  come  back." 

A  few  minutes  later,  when  Temple  had  drank  a  glass  of 
milk  and  egg,  she  sat  up  in  bed  and  again  seized  her  com- 
panion's hand,  "her  pallid  face  and  strained  eyes  hinting  at 
her  emotion. 

"  I  think  something  is  going  to  happen  to  me,"  she  said. 

"You're  just  nervous,"  was  the  soothing  reply.  "  You  go 
to  sleep  'n'  rest  you." 

"  I  should  like  to  rest,"  was  the  answer. 

A  pause.     But  the  hold  on  Almina's  hand  did  not  relax. 

"  I'm  going  to  be  ill,"  said  Temple.  "  Never  mind  con- 
tradicting me.  I  want  to  tell  you  something  first.  I  want 
to  say  it  while  I  have  my  mind  clear. 

"  Richard  has  been  very  busy — too  busy  to  come  here,  of 
course.  And  he  knows  I've  been  improving.  I  told  him 
that  Mr.  Boynton  was  here,  and  he  wrote  that  he  hoped  my 
old  friend  would  make  the  time  pass  more  pleasantly  for  me. 
I  hoped  so,  too.  But  I  wasn't  going  to  talk  about  that.  It 
was  something  else  I  wanted  to  say.  And  you  must  under- 
stand.    Will  you  understand?     Surely?     Surely?" 

"To  be  sure  I  will ;  yes,  indeed,"  Almina  hastened  to  say, 
conscious  of  a  growing  anxiety,  but  trying  to  speak  calmly. 

"  If  I'm  not  ill,  or  if  I  get  well,  5'ou  are  to  keep  what  I 
tell  you  a  solemn  secret  as  long  as  you  live  ?" 

Temple's  serious,  intense  eyes  were  fixed  on  Almina. 

"  Yes." 

"  Is  it  a  promise  ?" 

"  Yes." 

Temple  withdrew  her  hand  and  pressed  it  upon  her 
bosom. 

"If  I  don't  get  well,  tell  Richard  I  love  him — not  loved 
him  ;  for  I  shall  keep  on  loving  him  whether  I'm  living  or 
dead.  I  love  him  !  Oh,  make  him  know  it !  Not  affection, 
not  liking ;  but  love — love  !  I  know  why  he  married  me — 
to  help  him  in  his  work.     I  know  why  he  thinks  I  married 


350  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

him — and  I  remember  all  my  mistaken  thoughts  at  the  time. 
But  no  matter  about  all  that.  I  must  be  quick.  Are  you 
listening }  I  love  him !  And  it's  killing  me.  I  thought  I 
was  really  better.  But  I  don't  think  I  want  to  be  better. 
What  is  the  use .?  Dear  Richard  !  Dearest !  Dearest !  Oh, 
I  love  you  !" 

Temple  sank  down  on  the  bed.     Her  eyes  closed.     But 
she  seemed  conscious,  for  she  was  smiling. 

Suddenly  she  opened  her  eyes  again.     They  did  not  look 
quite  the  same. 

"Laura,  you  know  I  have  not  the  '  ecstatic  temperament, 
she  said,  in  an  unnatural  voice.  "  That  is  why  I  cannot  love, 
perhaps.  You  need  not  laugh  at  me,  Laura.  It's  like  being 
protected  by  proof  armor — to  have  a  cold  temperament." 


J » 


XXI 


"  EMOTIONALIZING  " 


"  I  SEEN  the  colored  woman  riding  by  on  that  pony,  'n* 
the  pony  was  goin'  like  possessed  _;  'n'  I  thought  something 
was  up;  'n'  I  told  my  husband  to  go  right  over  to  Alminy's 
'n'  borrer  a  nutmeg.  'N'  he  went ;  'n'  he  come  back,  'n'  he 
said  Mis'  Mercer  was  took  real  sick,  'n'  Sally'd  gone  for  the 
doctor ;  'n'  that  was  when  I  seen  her  go  by." 

Mrs.  Hitty  Blake  was  relating  this  tale  to  three  neighbors 
who  stood  in  her  yard  that  afternoon  towards  sunset.  One 
had  come  to  swap  a  dozen  Plymouth  Rock  eggs  for  a  dozen 
of  what  she  called  "  Braymy  "  eggs  ;  another  to  get  a  "re- 
ceipt "  for  making  gingerbread  that  should  be  soft,  and  yet 
not  too  soft ;  and  the  third  to  complain  that  the  rose-bush 
that  Mrs.  Blake  had  given  her  had  refused  to  live,  and  was 
now  as  "  dead  as  a  nit." 

But  all  three  of  them  forgot  their  errands  in  the  interest 
of  the  news. 

"  So  she's  really  sick  ?"  asked  the  rose-bush  woman.  "  She's 
got  something  besides  nerves  now,  'ain't  she  ?  I  'ain't  no  pa- 
tience with  nervous  women,  for  my  part.  My  husband  says 
if  I  ever  show  any  signs  of  nerves  he'll  clear  out  for  good 
'n'  all." 

*' Where's  that  feller  she's  be'n  ridin'  round  with  con- 
stant?" 

"I  guess  Alminy  '11  have  her  hands  full,"  remarked  the 
seeker  for  a  soft  gingerbread  recipe.  "  But  you  can't  do 
nothin'  with  Alminy.  She  kinder  appears  's  if  she  was  goin' 
to  yield,  but  she  ain't  goin'  to,  all  the  same.  I  guess  I'll 
go  over  'n'  offer  to  watch." 


352  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  I've  be'n  over  myself,"  now  said  Mrs.  Blake,  "  'n'  they 
said  they  was  goin'  to  try  to  git  'long  's  long  's  they  could 
themselves." 

"  Miss  Mercer's  really  got  something  the  matter  of  her 
now,  'ain't  she .''"  was  the  renewed  inquiry. 

"Oh  yes.  There  ain't  no  doubt  of  it.  Some  kind  of  a 
fever,  the  doctor  said ;  he  couldn't  for  certain  tell  what  kind, 
yet." 

"  I  hope  'tain't  ketchin'." 

"  I  guess  not.  My  husband  said  he  heard  down  to  the 
village  that  that  feller  who's  be'n  ridin'  with  Mrs.  Mercer 
had  gone  off,  bag  'n'  baggage." 

She  who  was  in  search  of  "  Braymy"  eggs  now  shook  her 
head  and  averred  that  she  believed  that  folks  didn't  know 
what  'd  be'n  goin'  on,  and  she  thought,  for  her  part,  that  if 
that  young  woman  had  really  got  a  husband  he'd  better  be 
round  himself. 

Here  Mrs.  Blake  took  occasion  to  state  that  she  had  al- 
ways kinder  pitied  Mrs.  Mercer  ;  she  couldn't  help  it.  There 
was  something  in  Mrs. Mercer's  face  that,  somehow  or  other — 

At  this  point  she  was  interrupted  by  the  rose-bush  woman, 
who  proclaimed  that  she  had  felt  jest  so,  exactly.  "  She 
s'posed  Mrs.  Mercer  couldn't  be  expected  to  be  jest  like 
Hoyt  folks  j  but,  then,  everybody  couldn't  be  Hoyt  folks." 

The  neighbors  were  hardly  done  with  talking  of  Temple's 
seizure,  when  it  became  known  that  a  woman  doctor  had 
come  all  the  way  from  Carolina  to  take  care  of  that  young 
woman  who  was  sick  at  old  maid  Drowdy's. 

Some  asserted  that  this  new-comer  could  not  be  a  real 
doctor,  being  female ;  that  she  was  probably  one  of  "  them 
new  kind  of  nusses." 

This  latter  doubt  has  never  been  absolutely  laid  at  rest  in 
the  town  of  Hoyt. 

There  are  people  there  now  who  maintain  that  Mrs.  Am- 
midown  was  only  a  nuss  ;  others  believe  that  she  was  just 
as  much  a  doctor  as  any  man  doctor  that  ever  was  in  the 
world. 


"  EMOTIONALIZING  "  353 

Meantime  Mrs.  Ammidown  took  the  responsibility  of  the 
care  of  Temple.  She  skilfully  guided  the  old-fashioned  doc- 
tor who  had  nominal  charge  of  the  case,  so  that  while  she 
respectfully  deferred  to  him,  she  really  brought  him  round  to 
what  she  thought  was  the  best  method  of  treatment. 

As  she  sat  hour  after  hour  by  Temple's  bedside,  none 
could  know  better  than  she  that  the  treatment  could  not  be 
much  more  than  judicious  nursing.  She  was  physician 
enough  to  be  aware  that  in  most  cases  it  was  the  nursing, 
and  not  the  medicine,  that  assisted  nature. 

She  had  not  paused  a  moment  after  she  had  received  Al- 
mina's  telegram.  In  an  hour  she  was  in  the  train  speeding 
northward.  At  the  railroad  station,  before  she  started  from 
Asheville,  she  had  telegraphed  to  her  brother,  who  was  in 
California,  called  there  by  unexpected  business. 

Almina  had  also  telegraphed  to  Mercer,  who  had  never 
failed  to  keep  her  informed  of  his  address. 

But  California  was  a  great  distance  away.  It  had  never 
seemed  so  far  away  to  Mrs.  Ammidown  as  it  did  now  while 
she  watched  by  Temple. 

But  what  was  the  good  of  Richard's  coming  ?  If  his  wife 
lived,  it  would  be  but  the  old  life  again. 

And  that  old  life,  Mrs.  Ammidown,  with  all  her  keen  in- 
sight, had  never  been  able  to  understand.  She  thought 
many  things,  but  she  was  sure  of  none. 

Temple  talked  a  great  deal  in  her  delirium,  but  her  words 
were  mostly  of  her  work  with  her  husband — of  her  longing 
to  help  him. 

Sometimes  she  sang  hymns  before  the  crowd  of  people. 
Sometimes  she  was  playing  her  violin.  Then  she  was  talk- 
ing with  those  who  came  to  her  about  their  eternal  salvation. 

Painfully  restless  she  was.  Sally  would  lift  her  in  her 
arms  and  carry  her  about  the  house  wrapped  in  a  blanket. 

The  Newfoundland  stalked  after  the  yellow  woman  and 
her  burden,  his  head  and  tail  drooping. 

When  at  last  Sally  put  her  mistress  down  on  the  bed 
again,  Yucatan  laid  himself  on  the  floor  close  to  the  bed. 
23 


354  AGAINST   HUMAN    NATURE 

He  would  gaze  mournfully  and    intently  into  Mrs.  Ammi- 
down's  face  until  that  woman  would  murmur, 

"  Oh,  don't,  Yucatan  !     We'll  do  all— all  that  we  can  do." 

Sometimes  the  dog  would  lift  himself,  place  his  front  paws 
on  the  bed,  and  reach  forward  to  lick  the  face  on  the  pillow. 

This  almost  always  made  Temple  put  out  her  hands  and 
cry, 

"Oh,  why  have  you  taken  my  own  dog  from  me?  My 
true  love  !  My  loyal  one  !  He  loves  me  !  I  tell  you  there 
is  one  who  loves  me !" 

Yucatan  would  whine  a  little.  He  kept  very  quiet  in  the 
sick-room,  and  he  would  not  be  driven  from  it. 

Mrs.  Ammidown,  sitting  by  the  bed,  thought  at  such  mo- 
ments that  she  noted  a  revealing  emphasis  in  that  phrase, 

"There  is  one  who  loves  me." 

But  she  knew  her  thoughts  might  be  baseless.  She  was 
really  sure  of  nothing  but  that  Temple  had  been  changed 
by  her  marriage  from  a  happy,  natural,  wild-spirited  girl  to — 
alas  !  what  was  she  now  ? 

Even  in  this  illness  Temple's  darkened  and  perturbed 
mind  held  to  its  resolution  to  conceal  her  secret. 

She  had  spoken  once,  just  once,  and  she  could  trust  Al- 
mina.     Oh  yes,  she  could  surely  trust  her. 

In  that  strange,  confused  space  of  time  after  that  last  in- 
terview with  Boynton,  Temple  had  thought  hurriedly  that  it 
could  be  but  natural  and  reasonable  that  she  should  wish 
Richard  to  know,  after  she  was  dead,  that  she  had  loved 
him. 

She  had  tried  with  all  her  strength  to  think  clearly  in  that 
half-hour.  He  must  not  know  the  truth  while  she  lived. 
The  knowledge  would  but  be  a  burden  to  him.  How  nobly 
and  strongly  he  would  try  to  respond  to  that  love !  And 
how  unhappy  he  would  be  because  he  could  not ! 

Such  a  knowledge  would  hinder  him  in  his  work ;  and  he 
loved  his  work. 

But  to  know  the  truth  after  she  was  gone.  It  was  not 
possible  there  could  be  any  harm  in  that. 


"  EMOTIONALIZING  "  355 

She  was  sentimental  and  morbid,  very  likely. 

But,  really,  she  could  not  help  telling  Almina.  And  she 
could  trust  Almina. 

It  would  be  such  a  good  thing  for  her  to  die  now. 

Then,  perhaps,  she  could  forget  the  evil  impulse  that 
had  made  her  renew  her  acquaintance  in  that  way  with 
Boynton. 

But  the  wish  to  take  up  her  mind  had  been  so  strong,  and 
she  was  sometimes  reckless.  And  Richard  had  not  cared 
to  come  back  once  to  see  how  she  was  getting  on.  But 
Richard  was  right.  She  had  written  him  that  she  was  gain- 
ing every  day.  Of  course,  there  was  no  need  for  him  to 
leave  his  work  and  come. 

Certainly,  Richard  was  right,  as  usual. 

And  the  only  way  out  of  it  all  was  to  die. 

She  wondered  how  women  could  possibly  be  amused  by 
any  kind  of  a  flirtation.  She  had  tried  it  faithfully,  and 
there  was  not  the  least  bit  of  amusement  in  it. 

Perhaps  it  would  do  her  good  to  sing.  Yes,  she  would 
sing.  There  would  be  nothing  in  a  hymn  that  would  betray 
her  secret. 

While  she  lived  it  must  be  a  secret,  for  the  knowledge 
would  trouble  Richard.     She  didn't  wish  to  trouble  him. 

It  had  been  a  strange  happiness  to  tell  of  her  love,  to  say 
aloud  to  some  one  that  she  loved  him.  To  call  him  "Dear- 
est." That  was  what  he  was :  Dearest — oh,  thousands  of 
times  dearest. 

But  even  if  she  were  crazed,  in  her  illness,  she  should 
not  tell  that. 

And  perhaps  illness  and  death  would  wash  out  that  foolish 
sin  of  kindness  to  Boynton. 

Yes,  she  would  sing. 

But  instead  of  singing  she  began  to  recite,  she  knew  not 
why.  She  spoke  in  that  hollow  but  piercing  and  insistent 
voice  which  is  so  dreadful  to  hear  from  the  sick. 

She  fixed  her  eyes  immovably  upon  Mrs.  Ammidown's 
face. 


356  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  '  He  turned  his  charger  as  he  spake, 
Beside  the  river  shore  ; 
He  gave  his  bridle-rein  a  shake, 
With  adieu  for  evermore, 

My  dear  ! 
Adieu  for  evermore  !'  " 

Without  taking  her  gaze  from  her  companion,  Temple 
laughed  slightly  as  she  remarked, 

"  Isn't  it  singular  that  people  seem  to  regard  those  lines 
as  sad  ?  Why,  there's  nothing  so  cheerful  in  the  world  1 
If  I  die,  Laura — and  I  shall  die  if  it's  a  possible  thing — I 
want  you  to  have  a  little  slab,  just  a  bit  of  a  slab  of  marble, 
at  my  feet — mind  you  put  it  at  my  feet,  to  keep  them  down  so 
that  they  need  not  follow  Richard — and  you  may  put  on  it, 

' '  *  Adieu  for  evermore, 
My  dear  ! 
Adieu  for  evermore  !' 

"That  will  be  such  a  good  joke.  Richard  will  laugh — if 
he  has  time.  And  now,  Laura  Ammidown,  you  are  the 
woman  who  believes  in  love  and  who  married  for  love.  That's 
a  good  joke  too.  That's  the  best  joke  of  all — to  marry 
for  love.  But  there  are  people  who  do  it.  My  mother  did 
it.     But  I  wasn't  such  a  fool.     Dear  friends,  I  will  pray.  " 

Then  Temple  prayed,  passionately  believing  God  was  her 
listener,  and  that  He  heard  her  beseech  Him  in  public  and 
in  private. 

But  after  a  little  the  voice  wavered,  then  started  on  again 

with: 

'*  '  He  turned  his  charger  as  he  spake 
Beside  the  river  shore — '  " 

Here  the  voice  ceased,  and  Temple  was  as  silent  for  hours 
following  as  if  she  could  not  speak. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  nerved  herself  to  hear  and  see  Temple 
thus. 

She  sat  by  the  bedside,  or  she  lay  on  a  couch  near,  while 


"  EMOTIONALIZING  "  357 


&j 


Sally  and  Miss  Drowdy  waited  upon  her,  bringing  everything, 
doing  everything,  she  ordered.  She  and  the  Newfoundland 
watched,  hardly  knowing  day  from  night. 

And  nothing  was  heard  from  Mercer. 

His  sister  telegraphed  again,  saying,  as  she  had  done  in 
the  first  message,  "Reply." 

This  time  an  answer  came  from  the  town  where  she  had 
addressed  him  in  California.  It  was  from  the  office,  and 
said, 

"  Mercer  gone  to  Red  Canon.  Expected  back  daily. 
Left  no  address." 

Mrs.  Ammidown  stood  by  the  bedside  holding  the  bit  of 
paper  in  her  hand. 

It  had  been  Temple's  worst  day. 

She  lay  now  with  her  eyes  shut.  She  bore  very  little  re- 
semblance to  herself.  She  was  not  merely  haggard ;  the 
hand  of  illness  had  moulded  her  face  into  something  terribly 
different — some  horrible  mask  seemed  to  hide  the  real  face. 

She  was  no  longer  so  restless.  Her  hands  lay  outspread 
on  the  white  bed-cover. 

The  form  of  the  skull  was  plainly  discernible  on  forehead 
and  temples. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  thrust  the  paper  into  her  pocket. 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  done — absolutely  nothing. 

She  would  wait.  She  did  not  yet  despair,  for  she  had 
great  faith  in  her  patient's  youth  and  strong  constitution. 

She  wished  her  brother  were  not  so  far  away.  It  seemed 
as  if  Red  Canon  might  as  well  be  out  of  the  world.  And 
if  he  knew —  Mrs.  Ammidown  counted  up  the  days  that  it 
would  take  for  him  to  come  in  the  very  fastest  manner. 

"  By  that  time,"  she  thought,  "  she  will  be  recovering, 
or—" 

The  woman  compressed  her  lips. 

She  heard  Temple  say,  in  a  half-whisper, 

"They've  hidden  my  violin." 

It  was  three  days  later  that  the  unwearied  watcher  knew 
that  her  charge  was  going  to  live. 


358  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

In  the  morning  of  the  third  day  Temple's  face,  worn  and 
wasted  as  it  was,  had  ceased  to  look  like  a  mask. 

Then  she  began  to  gain  ;  in  two  days  more  she  began  to 
gain  rapidly. 

She  wanted  Yucatan  to  sit  close  to  the  bedside,  and  put 
his  head  down  on  her  extended  hand.  Thus  the  two  would 
look  at  each  other.  Sometimes  she  would  kiss  his  head. 
The  tears  would  drop  from  her  eyes. 

"  You  needn't  think  I  am  crying,"  she  said  once,  glancing 
up  and  seeing  Mrs.  Ammidovvn  looking  at  her. 

"  It  is  very  evident  that  you  are  not  crying,"  was  the  re- 
sponse. 

"  They  are  tears  that  wash  away  evil,"  said  Temple.  "  I 
don't  think  my  soul  is  so  oppressed." 

"  Because  your  body  is  not  so  oppressed,"  explained  the 
other. 

"  Have  it  just  as  you  please.  I'm  going  to  call  it  my 
soul." 

Temple's  hollow  face  and  great  eyes  showed  the  ecstasy 
of  returning  life.  She  felt  this  ecstasy,  notwithstanding  that 
she  was  telling  herself  that  she  did  not  understand  it,  and 
she  had  no  right  to  feel  it. 

"I'm  going  down  to  my  mountains,"  she  said,  "though 
the  world  is  beautiful  everywhere." 

She  was  gazing  out  through  the  open  window.  It  was 
June. 

"  It  is  a  curious  thing,"  remarked  Mrs.  Ammidown  that 
afternoon,  as  she  sat  and  contemplated  Temple,  who  lay  on 
the  bed  propped  high  with  pillows — "  a  curious  thing  that  you 
seem  to  be  a  frank  sort  of  person  ;  you  don't  seem  to  be  con- 
cealing anything  ;  and  of  course  I'm  sure  that  I  have  pene- 
tration ;  and  yet  there  is  one  thing  about  which  I  have  never 
been  able  to  decide  in  my  own  mind." 

"  And  what  is  that .?" 

Mrs.  Ammidown  hesitated  an  instant,  then  she  answered, 

"  It  is  whether  you  love  Richard,  or  don't  love  him." 

Temple's  eyes  had  been  full  upon  her  sister's  when  these 


"  EMOTIONALIZING  "  359 

unexpected  words  were  spoken.  The  eyes  did  not  lower 
or  blench,  but  an  obscuring  expression,  almost  like  a  shadow, 
came  over  them. 

She  gave  no  answer  whatever,  and  directly  Mrs.  Ammi- 
down  made  some  casual  remark. 

After  a  little  time  Temple  said  that  she  hoped  that  Rich- 
ard had  not  been  sent  for  on  account  of  her  illness.  It 
would  be  too  bad  to  interrupt  his  work. 

"  Most  certainly  he  has  been  sent  for,"  was  the  prompt 
reply. 

Temple's  eyelids  suddenly  fell  as  if  they  were  too  heavy. 
She  shut  her  mouth  tightly. 

"  You  were  so  ill  that  I  did  not  dare  not  to  send,"  re- 
sponded the  other  woman. 

"  He  has  not  been  herei*"  in  a  stiff  voice. 

Then  Mrs.  Ammidown  explained. 

A  moment  later  the  silence  which  had  followed  was  broken 
by  Temple.  She  leaned  forward  and  touched  her  compan- 
ion with  a  cold  hand. 

"Do  you  think  he  can  be  ill?"  she  asked. 

Mrs.  Ammidown  shook  her  head. 

"  If  he  were  he  would  surely  send  to  me,"  she  answered. 

"  Not  to  me  ?"  said  Temple. 

In  spite  of  herself  a  tremor  went  over  the  woman  at  hear- 
ing Temple's  voice  saying  "  Not  to  me  ?" 

"  He  knows  you  are  ill,"  she  said,  hurriedly — "  at  least, 
he  must  know  by  this  time." 

Temple  said  nothing  for  a  long  while.  Then  she  spoke 
to  ask  if  Laura  would  not  telegraph  immediately  to  Richard 
— tell  him  there  was  no  need  for  him  to  come.  He  might 
get  the  message  in  time  to  prevent  his  starting. 

"I  insist,"  she  said,  harshly. 

So  the  message  was  written,  and  Sally  was  sent  on  the 
pony  to  the  station,  where  it  could  be  despatched. 

Meantime,  seeing  her  patient  adverse  to  sleep,  Mrs.  Am- 
midown began  to  try  to  amuse  her  by  speaking  of  various 
things. 


36o  AGAINST    HUMAN    NATURE 

"  You  remember  Link  Dalvecker  ?"  she  asked,  at  last. 

"Yes,"  was  the  answer, without  much  apparent  interest. 

"  And  you  know  there's  a  family  of  six  girls  up  at  the 
head  of  Cain  Creek — named  Pace  ?" 

"I  know  them.     Girls  with  bright  eyes  and  red  cheeks?" 

"  Who  will  soon  be  faded-eyed  and  flabby-cheeked,"  added 
Mrs.  Ammidown.  "  Well,  Link  is  going  to  marry  the  oldest 
one ;  I  heard  this  before  I  came  North  to  take  care  of  you ; 
and  Link's  mother  tells  everybody  that  her  son  couldn't 
really  make  urp  his  mind  ter  marry  thur  Crawford  gal, 
though  thur  Crawford  gal  use  ter  curm  over  to  court  him." 

Temple  smiled  languidly. 

"  That's  maternal  devotion,"  she  remarked.  After  a  mo- 
ment's silence,  she  added,  "  I  hope  Link  will  be  happy.  I 
was  always  fond  of  Link." 

She  said  no  more. 

The  day  was  wearing  on  towards  sunset,  and  Temple  had 
been  helped  to  a  chair  by  the  window.  She  sat  there  with 
many  pillows  behind  her. 

The  red  sunshine  was  on  her  figure  and  streaming  across 
the  room.  It  fell  also  upon  the  dog,  who  was  lying  soundly 
sleeping  close  beside  her. 

The  dog  had  grown  gaunt  and  thin  in  the  past  ten  days. 

Suddenly  he  sat  upon  his  haunches,  his  head  raised  and 
ears  cocked. 

There  was  so  much  of  excitement  in  his  whole  appear- 
ance that  Temple  became  excited  also.  She  tried  to  sit 
upright,  but  she  could  not.  She  sank  back  again  on  her 
pillows. 

"  What  is  it,  old  fellow  ?"  she  asked.  "  Don't  go  on  like 
that.     He  isn't  near." 

As  she  spoke  the  last  word  she  was  aware  that  some  one 
was  crossing  the  next  room. 

Yucatan  leaped  forward,  barking  sharply. 

Mercer  thrust  aside  the  dog  with  a  strong  sweep  of  his 
arm. 

He  knelt  down  by  his  wife's  chair. 


"  EMOTIONALIZING  "  361 

For  the  first  time  Temple  could  not  keep  from  her  face 
the  feeling  in  her  heart.     And  Mercer  saw  that  look. 

He  rose  quickly.  He  gathered  the  slight  form  up  in  his 
arms.  He  did  not  know  what  words  burst  from  him.  He 
felt  that  he  could  never  find  phrases  of  love  strong  enough. 

He  sat  down,  holding  Temple  closely.  His  face  was  wet 
with  tears,  and  his  tremulous  lips  but  half  obeyed  him  in  his 
attempts  to  speak. 

"Oh,  my  love  !     Oh,  my  love  !" 

This  was  the  first  that  Temple  could  distinguish  as  she 
lay  with  her  face  pressed  against  his  breast. 

She  lifted  her  head. 

"  Why,  you  love  me,  Richard  ?"  She  whispered  this,  with- 
drawing herself  a  little  that  she  might  look  at  him. 

It  seemed  to  the  two  as  if  this  were  the  first  time  their 
eyes  had  ever  met. 

When  he  could  speak,  Mercer  said, 

"  I  have  loved  you  ever  since  I  saw  you." 

After  a  while  Temple,  still  in  her  husband's  arms,  made 
a  movement  yet  nearer  to  him, 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  should  be  able  to  pray  again,"  she  said. 
"  Oh,  how  much  one  ought  to  help  others  when  one  is  happy." 

Just  before  it  was  dark  Mrs.  Ammidown  came  to  the 
door. 

"  Really,"  she  said,  gayly,  though  her  voice  was  not  quite 
steady,  "  I  am  afraid  you  two  are  emotionalizing." 


THE    END 


By  MAEY   E.  WILKINS. 


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